


You Set Fire to the Rain

by Icicle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Humor, Awkward Sexual Situations, Curses, Drama, Drunkenness, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Drama, Fight Sex, Fights, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, France (Country), Friendship, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, Post - Deathly Hallows, Post-War, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:59:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icicle/pseuds/Icicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated. <i>“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Parts 1-2

**Author:** Icicle

 **Title:** You Set Fire to the Rain

 **Characters/Pairings:** Harry/Draco, past Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Andromeda and Teddy

 **Rating:** NC-17

 **Warnings:** angst, violence, strong language, hot boy love, slight gore, mental illness, character death, and sexual situations*

 **A/N about warnings: ~** contains spoilers~**This fic will contain character death. I’m telling you this up front, so no one kills me later. However, the character death will not come until the end of the story, and this story is not about death at all. Rather, this is a story about Harry’s journey in self-discovery. It’s about the epic love story that exists between Harry and Draco, and how even in a short time, they managed to change each other’s lives. Yes, you will need tissues for this fic, but you will also smile, laugh, and I’m pretty sure that you will be content with the ending. If you join me on this journey through Harry’s whirlwind relationship with Draco, I promise you won’t regret it. *

 **Word Count:** ~3500 in this section (novel length in all)

 **Summary:** After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated. _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_

 **A/N:**  Originally, I wrote this fic for hp emofest on livejournal; however, I wrote it in a short period of time and wasn’t one hundred percent happy with the finished story. Over the next several weeks, I will be posting an edited version that will also include several extra scenes. I’m much happier with this version. I would like to thank my two lovely betas: [ Ashiiblack](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com) and [ erised_dreams ](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com) . Without you ladies, I never could have written this fic. All mistakes that remain are my own. Last thing, this story is EWE and mostly DH compliant, but I have tweaked a few things to go along with my plot.

Enjoy and I apologise for the ridiculously long header.

 

* * *

  

 

 

  
_I set fire to the rain just to watch you burn. I set fire to the rain and threw us in the flames._ ~HJP[1]

 

 

  
  
**: : One : :**

 

 

They say that life is full of great adventures—that the adventures are what make life worth living. Well, by the time I left Hogwarts, I had more than my fill of adventures. I was ready to start living a quiet life of solitude.

 

 

What I didn’t know, what I didn’t count on—was that my greatest adventure was still to come—that my greatest adventure would be with _you_.

 

 

If I had known what would happen—if I had known that you would become my world, perhaps I would have done things differently.

 

 

Or perhaps I would have done things exactly the same.

 

 

All I know is that it’s over now, and I’ll never be the same. We’ll never be the same.

 

 

I’m not sure where to start; it’s such a long and complicated story, much like everything in my life. Perhaps I should take the easy route, for once, and start at the beginning.

 

 

 

 

**: : :**

 

 

_**Two Years Earlier...** _

 

 

 

 

After the war, I didn’t know anything about your life. I testified at your hearing, testified for you and your mum, so you wouldn’t wind up in prison. You didn’t deserve Azkaban; you were a pawn of the war—helpless, broken, dejected—much like I was. Definitely not a criminal. I told myself that the only reason I helped you was because of your mum; she had saved my life after all, so I owed her. But now I realise that it went so much deeper. Perhaps even back then—I felt an unnatural, unwavering attraction to you—much like a moth to a flame.

 

 

After your trial, I completely lost track of you. Once I knew you weren’t going to Azkaban, I didn’t much care what you did with your life. I didn’t much care what anyone did with their lives. I just wanted to find a way to have one of my own and most importantly to be left _alone_.

 

 

Of course, being Harry Potter and defeating the darkest wizard of all time, _twice_ , didn’t keep me off the radar. I was constantly being followed, hassled for interviews, pictures, guest appearances—you name it and they asked for it. Hadn’t I already done enough for the wizarding world? Hadn’t I already sacrificed my childhood and adolescence to a lunatic trying to rid the world of diversity by infecting the wizarding population with hatred and intolerance? Apparently, saving the world twice doesn’t grant you a free pass or any influence amongst the press. At least it didn’t for me.

 

 

The press.

 

 

Oh, how I _love_ the press. Adore them really. The _Daily Prophet_ and I are on such familiar terms that the head writers and I get together every Friday night for a pint at the Leaky…yeah right. I have threatened, or at least Hermione has threatened, the _Prophet_ , with a multitude of lawsuits ranging from invasion of privacy to defamation and slander. She has threatened to sue them for every Knut they are worth, but unfortunately, that hasn’t deterred them. It was as if the more I hid from them, the more interested they were in reporting news on me. And it wasn’t just the _Prophet_ any more either. Other papers, primarily gossips rags, were all interested in the daily happenings of Harry Potter’s oh-so-fabulous life. They followed me everywhere, taking pictures and reporting on me doing anything and everything, including, eating lunch with my mouth open or not washing my hands after using the loo one afternoon. It was getting absolutely ridiculous, and I couldn’t take it any more.

 

 

It's one thing to write about my _sordid_ breakup with Ginny Weasley as the press had called it. All of a sudden, I was London’s most eligible bachelor, and as loathe I am to admit this, it was ‘big’ news. Still, it's quite another to report about my personal hygiene skills and choice in restaurants or magazine subscriptions. Why do people actually care about those things? Seriously.

 

At first, I tried to take it all in good faith, laugh it off that the papers now had a ‘Where’s Harry?’ column or ‘Spot Potter’ section. It was funny at first—kind of a continuation of Potterwatch—but not any more; the war had ended three years ago. Three bloody years and the press still wouldn’t leave me alone—no matter how much I hid. The more I hid, the more they pried and became desperate to capture pictures of the elusive Potter.

 

I grew deeply depressed and even my work suffered. Kingsley told me that my heart wasn't in the Auror training programme any more, so that I should take some time off—the entire summer if I wanted—to recuperate and find myself, to decide if I really wanted to be an Auror or not. It wasn't even May yet, and he insisted that he wouldn't expect me back until September.

 

At first, I was hesitant to accept his proposal. What would I really do with so much time off? And of course, I wanted to be an Auror. I’m Harry Potter, defender of innocents, vanquisher of evil…what else would anyone expect me to be? What else was I actually good at?

 

But then the press took things much too far.

 

Someone had actually managed to capture pictures of me sleeping…in my bedroom…and worst of all...without pyjamas. I wore only my red Golden Snitch boxers. At first, I was mortified; it was like a nightmare that the entire wizarding world now knew what I looked like in my pants. But after speaking with Hermione, I quickly got over my mortification, and then I was terrified for my safety. How could someone invade my privacy like that and watch me while I sleep? It was beyond disturbing, so much so, that I decided to take Kingsley up on his offer. I needed a break, a long break, far away from all the nonsense and madness that surrounded wizarding London.

 

Luckily, I knew just the place. It had been far too long since I had seen my darling godson anyway, so I decided to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy at their summerhouse in the south of France. Little did I know, that I would find a lot more than I bargained for that summer, that the summer would change my entire outlook on life.

 

 

  
  
**: : Two : :**

 

 

    _“We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict.”_     ~JM[2]

 

 

 

  
  
**:  :  :**

 

 

Spending the summer with Andromeda and my godson turned out to be exactly what I needed. Their old-world and roomy villa was lovely, and the petite hamlet they resided in was quiet and secluded. The small population of their village, Roquebrun, was mostly Muggle and didn’t give an arse about Harry Potter. I was in absolute heaven. I could walk the streets and the town without being mobbed by a frantic group of strangers or hassled for autographs and photos anytime I went out to the market.

 

It was utterly fantastic, so much so, that I considered extending my stay.

 

Perhaps even indefinitely.

 

Besides, I also had the best of company between Andromeda and Teddy. Andromeda was one of the sweetest women I'd ever met. If not for her hauntingly similar appearance to Bellatrix Lestrange, she would be top contender for my favourite person _ever_ award. Yet, even though she looked like a haughty Black, she didn’t possess one hair on her head that resembled the cruel nature of the estranged and twisted Black sisters.

 

I don’t understand how such a sinister woman, (the late Mrs Black), could have given birth to such a kind-hearted soul. But I suppose there's always an exception to every rule—look at Sirius, although Sirius wasn’t even close to as kind-hearted as his cousin. In fact, Sirius was a lot more Black than he let on. As much as I loved him, Sirius had an inner darkness in him that always threatened to come undone. But none of that matters any more, since Sirius is gone and all.

 

Even though it'd been many years since his death, it still hurt to think about Sirius, much too deeply. I tried to keep him far from my thoughts, but being around Andromeda and Teddy, brought my dear godfather to mind. After all, Andromeda and Teddy are the only Blacks left, other than you, of course, and luckily for Andromeda, it seems like Teddy is taking after his mother and grandmother. He's becoming such a wonderful little boy. It appears that the Black family poison has surpassed his generation. Thank Merlin. He was only 4-years-old, at the time, and already he was so smart, kind, and loving. I could not have been prouder of my godson and everything had been going smashingly—until _you_ came along.

 

Before _you_ , things were _not_ perfect.

 

No, things were far from perfect. Perhaps not even ‘good’, but at least they were normal, steady. You came pounding into my life like a whirlwind, disrupting everyone and everything that I had ever known; suddenly, you started to invade my mind, constantly.

 

Sometimes, it made me want to strangle you, particularly since I was having such a pleasant time with Andromeda and Teddy until you showed up to ruin it. It was like being back at school again. No matter how far I ran, I couldn’t be free from _Draco bloody Malfoy_.

 

 

 

  
**: : :**

 

 

I’ll always remember the day I first saw you again. I hadn’t thought about you in years, not since your trial. Occasionally, I had scanned over some horrid, scandalous article about you and your family in the paper: how they had sentenced your father to the Kiss and how your mother was in and out of St Mungo’s with shot nerves and anxiety attacks.

 

Of course, I ignored them because Merlin knows that they were probably false since I knew better than anyone that the press will write anything to sell copies of their disgusting rags. Unfortunately, this time the papers were not wrong. Narcissa Malfoy was much more ill than the papers had let on—so ill in fact—that not more than three months after Lucius had been given the Kiss, Narcissa completely lost her mind.

 

And that was when _you_ showed up.

 

I was in the other room when I first heard Andromeda cry out. Apparently, she trusted you enough to allow you access to the wards; something, I would not have allowed had I known, which is why one afternoon, you just appeared in her living room. I heard Andromeda scream and came running out, wand drawn. I saw you standing there with a blank, dejected look upon your face, your white blond hair ruffling out in all directions.

 

I had never seen your face so pale, your eyes so unguarded. Yet, out of habit I came after you with my wand, threatening you with it right at the throat. But you didn’t even flinch. It was as if your mind was elsewhere, lost in another place, another time. It seemed meaningless to you that I was threatening your life.

 

“It’s okay, Harry,” Andromeda said, “please lower your wand. It’s only my nephew, Draco.”

 

I wasn’t convinced. Somehow, I felt as if it were some sort of trick. Over the years, you had played enough pranks on me that I knew better then to let my guard down around you. Yet, I reluctantly obliged; it was Andromeda’s house after all, and you seemed harmless enough.

 

I took two steps back and let Andromeda step between us, but I never let go of my wand. It was gripped firmly in my hand, ready to go at a moment’s notice. At least my Auror training was good for something.

 

“Draco, what’s the matter?” Andromeda asked, her voice high-pitched and laced with concern.

 

She put her arms around you and pulled you tightly against her body. For some unexplainable reason, I was burning with jealousy.

 

“Love,” she said, voice soft, “you can tell me anything. We’re family. What’s wrong?”

 

She started rubbing circles on your back, but you didn’t respond. You just stared into thin air blankly, as if Andromeda and I weren’t in the room. In fact, I don’t think you noticed my presence at all—even after the whole wand and life-threatening incident.

 

But I noticed you. God, I have _always_ noticed you.

 

I couldn’t stop watching your listless grey eyes; they were so clear, an almost tungsten shade of silver, speckled with flecks of blue. They were hauntingly beautiful, and now that I look back, I think that’s when you started sucking me in, slowly making me fall for you. I was always a sucker for your beautiful grey eyes.

 

“Draco, please. You’re scaring me. Did something happen to you? To your mother?”

 

Andromeda's voice hitched as she mentioned her sister. Even though they'd spent so many years estranged, it was obvious to anyone that knew her that Andromeda’s baby sister was the light of her life, besides her grandson, of course.

 

You bowed your head and averted your eyes. It was as if the mention of your mother finally brought you back from whatever daze you were trapped in. Gasping for air, you finally spoke.

 

“Mother! Oh god, Mother.” It was all you were able to say before breaking into tears.

 

It wasn’t the first time I had seen you cry. As much as I'd like to wipe out that particular memory—the day of the fateful bathroom incident—well, that day I had seen you cry too. Luckily, this time it didn’t end with me slashing your chest open and almost killing you. In some ways, it was worse.

 

The first time I had seen you cry, you seemed tormented, angry, helpless even. But this time, it was different; your cries were frantic, so deep and tormented. It was painful just to listen to them, to watch you convulse in pain. You were sobbing and breathless, tears making anything that came out of your mouth unintelligible. I couldn’t comprehend the pain you were in, but it was obvious that something terrible had happened…something so terrible that your life would never be the same. None of our lives would be the same.

 

They say that seeing your enemy break down, falling apart in agony and damnation, is the greatest joy of all—that revenge is best served cold. At that moment, it could not have felt further from the truth. I don’t know if it was because we were never enemies at all or if it was just something about you in particular, but at that moment, something in me changed forever. The only thing I wanted was to stop your pain, and for once, I wasn’t responsible.

 

I dropped my wand and ran over to the two of you. I didn’t know anything about comforting people—mostly because I had never been comforted as a child—still, I tried my best and threw my arms around you gently, but with enough pressure that you would feel my presence. As Andromeda continued rubbing circles on your back, I started petting your hair, timidly at first, and then once I realised you hadn’t pushed me away, I ran my fingers through your silky strands as well, stroking as lightly and soothingly as possible. I never imagined that your hair would be so soft, so fine. It was even softer than Ginny’s hair. But it wasn’t the time to think about such trivialities. You were in pain and you needed me; that was all that I could grasp.

 

“Shh,” I soothed. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” I stopped stroking your hair for a second and locked eyes with you, praying that I would get some sort of response, any type of recognition rather then a blank stare. “Please—just tell us what happened. We want to help.”

 

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say because you started to laugh, dark and manically.

 

“You can’t help."  Your eyes darkened and met mine again; the silver orbs were gone and replaced by blackness, dead. “No one can.” You bit down on the corner of your lip and turned to Andromeda. “Mother’s dead.” Your voice was even and devoid of any emotion.

 

Two words, technically three—and that was all it took to change everything.

 

“No,” Andromeda choked out, her face blanching. “My Cissa? It can’t be true.”

 

“Mother’s dead,” you repeated, as if Andromeda and I hadn’t heard you the first time.

 

Andromeda was hyperventilating. I had to do something to make her relax.

 

“How?” I asked. “How did she die?”

 

You turned your head slowly, your long hair whipping around and smacking your face. Your eyes were narrowed, much more like the infamous Malfoy glare you usually greeted me with. “She killed herself, Potter,” you spat. “What’s it to you?”

 

“Oh my god,” Andromeda cried, “oh my god.”

 

Stunned, I looked down at the floor; I couldn’t meet your harsh gaze anymore. I hadn’t meant to hurt you and put that hostile distance between us again. But I was embarrassed, embarrassed that I had been so cold, demanding in asking about your mother’s death. I had only wanted to get Andromeda to relax, to understand what had happened. In typical Potter fashion, I made things worse. Way to go, idiot.

 

“I’m sorry,” I croaked out. My voice was harsh but soft, barely a whisper. I couldn’t take it back. All I could do was apologise.

 

“I’m sure you are, Potter,” you sneered. “You’re probably happy. One less Death Eater for you and your Auror buddies to off.”

 

I felt my face turning red. Fuck.  “No, Malfoy… I—”  

 

I was at a loss for words. There had to be a way to fix this, but of course, I couldn’t think of anything. Luckily, Andromeda interrupted—she came to my rescue.

 

“Draco,” she said, her voice so painfully distressed, “you don’t mean that, love.” Her tone was slow, too slow really, almost as if she were fighting to hold back tears. “Think about what you’re saying, son. This is Harry Potter. The same man who testified for you and your mother at your trial.” She attempted to smile at Draco, but it only came across as a rather lame smirk.

 

“Whatever." Your voice was still harsh and your forehead furrowed.

 

By this point, I was halfway across the room, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. I didn’t want to be within arm’s length in case you decided to attack me. I did everything I could to avoid your sharp glare. At the time, I didn’t understand why it was so painful to have you look at me with such disgust.

 

I tried to distract myself and instead focused on your appearance. You didn’t look yourself at all; you were wearing Muggle clothes, a plain tee shirt and a tight pair of jeans. It was bizarre seeing the great Draco Malfoy, Slytherin poster boy and pureblood supremacist, wearing something so common.

 

Still, something was off. The front of your shirt was stained with dark, crimson blotches. Why hadn’t I noticed? Checking for blood is one of the first fundamentals we learn in Auror training. Fuck, your mere presence made me forget everything that I had ever learnt.

 

“Is that blood?” I asked, hoping that you wouldn’t hex me for continuing to open up my big fat mouth.

 

“Yes...there was so much blood. Mother—” Your voice started to crack again; I watched you fight back more tears. I admired your remarkable self-composure.

 

Although I had forgotten about Andromeda, at this point in the conversation, she seemed to regain some coherence. Her long, porcelain face was blotchy; tears continued to trickle down her cheeks. But at least she had recuperated enough to speak.

 

“How can this be, Draco?” she demanded. “Why would she do this?”

 

You ignored me and walked over to your aunt. This time, it was you who put your arms around her, whispering in her ear. “I don’t know, Auntie. I don’t know.”

 

The two of you stayed in that position for a while, both holding each other and trading small comforts. I never thought I would see you hold another person willingly and try to offer solace.

 

I felt like an outsider and a nuisance, so I left the two of you alone. I don’t know how long you stayed in that position. It could have been hours or only a few minutes, but what I do know, is that when I came back later, you were gone. Andromeda and I were alone again.

 

As I stared at the empty couch where you had sat, a pang struck my chest, a deep emptiness that I couldn’t shrug off. It was positively maddening.

   
 

 

 

**To be continued…**

 

 

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading parts one and two of this story. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

 **[1]** The HJP quote and title of this fic are based off the Adele song, “Set Fire to the Rain”. I have altered the lyrics in order to fit this fic, but the original song and lyrics do not belong to me. You can access the lyrics [here](http://www.elyrics.net/read/a/adele-lyrics/set-fire-to-the-rain-lyrics.html).

 **[2]** The second quote is written by Jim Morrison. Neither quote belongs to me, nor do I take credit for them.

**~Icicle**


	2. Parts 3-4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_

**Author:**[](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/profile)[ **icicle33**](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/)  
 **Title:**  You Set Fire to the Rain  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Harry/Draco, past Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Andromeda and Teddy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other works that I refer to in this story. Please don’t sue me.  
 **Warnings:** For a full list of warnings refer to part 1. For this section, inappropriate conduct during a funeral, outrageous hairstyles that should be outlawed, a cameo by portrait!Snape, mentions of past violence, and a little bit of blood for those that are really squeamish.  
 **Word count:** ~7800 + (novel length in all)  
 **Summary:**   After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_  
 **A/N:** A big thank you to my lovely betas: [](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/profile)[ **ashiiblack**](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/) and [](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/profile)[ **erised_dreams**](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/)

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**: : Three : :**

 

 

 

“ _There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.”_ ~MK [3]

 

 

****: : :** **

 

 

 

After you left, the days went by slowly— _too slowly_ , and I couldn’t stop thinking about you and your pained grey eyes. And Andromeda, it was as if she were a different person, almost unrecognisable. Gone was the strong, fiercely independent woman, who always had a smile on her face no matter what the circumstance. She had survived being disowned by her family, the passing of her husband, as well as the murder of her only daughter. But losing her younger sister was the final straw, the final catastrophe that pushed her off the cliff. She was a broken woman now, barely a shell of her former fortitude, and it broke my heart. I just didn’t know how to help her; the only thing I could do was offer my unconditional support, so that’s what I did. I even accompanied her to Narcissa’s funeral.

 

Narcissa’s memorial service: a final tribute to a loving mother, wife, and sister, as it had been called in the official announcement, was a small and intimate affair. It took place in the Malfoy gardens and chapel and was only attended by a selective group of loved ones. You were there, of course, along with Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Snape’s portrait. They were probably there for moral support, and everyone needs someone I suppose, but did you really have to bring that slimy git’s portrait? Snape and I had made our peace, but that still didn’t mean I wanted to spend an afternoon in his presence. Luckily, I was able to avoid him, for the most part; although, like everyone else we ran into, even Snape, the snarkiest bastard I had ever met, seemed to have a soft spot for Andromeda. He offered her reassuring words, and I couldn’t help but be resentful of a ridiculous portrait because even bloody Snape was better at comforting Andie, my own family, than I was. It was infuriating—even in death, the slimy git still made me feel inadequate. Fucking Slytherins, why must you all confuse me? I tried to remain calm though, because Narcissa’s funeral was not about me; it was about you and all of Narcissa’s loved ones. Andie needed to find closure and say her final goodbyes to her sister, so I just kept my mouth shut; instead, I closely regarded the people around me.

 

A tall, elegant woman with olive coloured skin and ebony hair, which was piled on top of her head in a complicated and twisted updo, was standing two rows directly in front of me; she was drop-dead gorgeous and surprisingly familiar. Andromeda told me that she was Zabini’s mother and one of Narcissa’s closest friends. I couldn’t stop staring at the striking dark-haired woman, but not because of her beauty; rather, it was because of her hair. She was wearing a black lace veil that was draped half across her face and made her long, thin neck appear even more lithe than it already was, but her bony neck or veil were not what caught my attention; her black veil was adorned with an array of black feathers as well as a tiny top hat. It was quite bizarre and I didn’t understand why she was wearing that ill-fitting miniature top hat until a few seconds later, when a white dove poked its head out of her beehive hairstyle. I couldn’t help but chuckle, much more loudly than I had intended, and Andromeda elbowed me pointedly and whispered at me to behave. A slightly pug-nosed woman, that I assumed to be Pansy’s mother, turned around to glare at me, and I quickly looked down at the floor pretending that the pew in front of me was suddenly interesting and prayed that my cheeks weren’t noticeably red. Usually, I try not to act out and deliberately call attention to myself at social events, but that day I couldn’t help it. Seriously, a dove in a miniature top hat...nesting in Mrs Zabini’s hair—that was too priceless of an opportunity to resist, even if it was a funeral. Well, at least for once, I didn’t have the worst hairstyle in the entire place. I had to behave myself though, before that Parkinson woman cursed me. I could feel her penetrating gaze on my flushed cheeks even if I was staring at the floor. I quickly bit my tongue and tried to put on my most serious face.

 

After my wave of embarrassment passed, and I was sure that I would no longer snigger at Mrs Zabini’s dove, who I had named Aurora, I looked up and studied the rest of the guests. The service was being held in a large chapel inside the manor, but the number of guests in attendance could barely fill two pews. Luckily, everyone was spread out throughout the chapel—if not, the service would have looked completely vacant. In fact, apart from you and your friends, as well as their mothers, there were barely any other guests. All the members of the Malfoy Manor staff were also there to pay their respects, but that was it. Andromeda and I were the only other people in attendance. It seemed silly to be in such a large hall with so few guests, but I suppose it was just another of the various pureblood traditions that I didn’t understand.

 

Since I barely knew Narcissa, I felt out of place at her funeral, but after all, the woman had saved my life. I owed it to her memory to be there, and besides, I was there for moral support for Andromeda—and surprisingly enough, for you too. Not that I ever got the chance to tell you. I wanted to say something to you that day, offer you some words of consolation, but you were always surrounded by your friends. It wasn’t my place to interrupt, especially since we weren’t even friends, not really. I felt as if I were intruding by just being there, mostly because I hadn’t even been officially invited. At least you didn’t throw me out. That was definitely a plus—and the one time that our eyes did meet, you bowed your head solemnly at me in acknowledgment. Perhaps you had forgiven me for my inconsiderate behaviour the last time we had met.

 

Once you finally acknowledged me, I couldn’t stop watching you. It was as if you were the only person in the room—even Aurora no longer caught my eye. Merlin’s balls, what the hell was wrong with me? I heard Snape’s portrait make snide remarks about unwelcome and disrespectful brats, but I didn’t care.

 

For the rest of the afternoon, you were all I saw.

 

 

 

 

**: : :**

 

 

 

As they buried Narcissa in the Malfoy family mausoleum, your face was stoic and withdrawn, your grey eyes dark, distant. You were completely unruffled and poised—as if it were just another day in the tedious life of Draco Malfoy rather than your mother’s funeral. But it was all an act. It was as obvious as the light of day that behind those cold, grey eyes was a world of pain and unresolved grief. It wasn’t my place to help you though. I was there for Andromeda and you had _your_ friends—except why weren’t they trying to help you?

 

I sighed heavily and bowed my head. I was trying to be strong for Andromeda, to be strong for you, but it was rather difficult since I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Pansy was wailing besides you, gasping for air, and choking on her wretched sobs. I watched you stroke her arm and pat her back soothingly. I was completely nonplussed.

 

This was _your_ mother’s funeral, so why were you comforting her? In fact, why were Pansy and most of the other guests crying hysterically while you were just standing there —shoulders back, spine straight, and tight-lipped? It wasn’t right. Didn’t they see that they were stealing _your_ moment, tarnishing Narcissa’s memory? Perhaps that was the way you wanted it. You’re like me in that way, always better at comforting others rather than being comforted—always the victor and never the victim. Or at least we pretend to be.

 

I had always wanted to ask you about that day, about what you were thinking—how you acted so strong? Somehow, I never got around to it; it was much too depressing and heavy of a topic to bring into light conversation. I wish I had though. You probably wouldn’t have minded, and now I’ll never get the chance.

 

 

  


**: : :**

 

 

After Narcissa’s funeral, Andromeda didn’t leave the house for days. She couldn’t even be bothered to go to the market to buy milk for Teddy’s porridge. In that moment, I knew that things were dire. I needed to do something to help Andromeda, but sadly, the only thing I could do was offer to make tea and indulge her in small talk.

 

So that’s what we did. For days, we sat around and drank tea; we lived on macarons and cucumber sandwiches and just talked. We talked about everything, mostly inane things like our favourite subjects back at Hogwarts or our favourite Muggle authors. It didn’t matter really. I just wanted Andromeda to stay with me—anything to keep her from spiralling deeper into her depression. After a couple of weeks of way too many sweets and black tea, she seemed to be getting better, responding to me and smiling occasionally, even if it lacked the warmth it had once possessed. At least it was an improvement.

 

Yes, things were slowly getting back to normal, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Well, as long as I didn’t mention Narcissa or you, but it didn’t matter because I was making a difference. I was helping Andromeda and saving my family. Or so I thought.

 

A few weeks after Narcissa’s funeral, I had a terrible nightmare. It’s normal for me to toss and turn at night, but that night something didn’t feel right. I don’t even remember what the dream had been about, but what I do remember is a nagging feeling that I needed to go downstairs. I followed my instincts and started heading down the winding staircase when I heard a faint noise coming from the parlour; it sounded like whispering and immediately I was alarmed.

 

For once, I could put my Auror training to use, and I hate to admit that even though I was concerned, I was also a bit excited. I stealthily crept down the stairs and hid under the stairwell; my head was aching horribly, and I was in no mood to deal with intruders. It had been a long time since I dealt with criminals, so whoever had been daft enough to mess with my family was going to get their bollocks cursed off.

 

My wand was drawn and I was ready to hex whatever arsehole had broken into Andromeda’s house into oblivion, but what I found was so much worse. If only it had been an intruder that was waiting for me in the parlour. An intruder, even a Death Eater, was simple to deal with; it was someone I could fight, a threat that I could destroy. But the scene I found downstairs was like something out of my nightmares—there was nothing I could do to help, no villain to exterminate. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from crying out and running to Andromeda. I knew that I had stumbled upon a private moment, and she would be devastated or at least embarrassed if she had found me spying on her. But I couldn’t make myself turn around. I was frozen on the spot.

 

Yes, all I could do was watch, and it broke my heart.

 

Andromeda was sitting in an old rocking chair that usually stood in the corner of the sitting room completely unused. She had her dark hair tied back in a loose plait, and it made her appear at least ten years younger; she looked like a school girl again and oh-so fragile. She had a pale blue cardigan tossed across her bony shoulders; she had gotten much too thin in these last few weeks even if she had only been eating macarons and tea. The blue cardigan was so familiar; I remembered it well. It was the last present that Narcissa had gotten her sister for her birthday and Andromeda adored it. She wore the soft cashmere cardigan often and made sure to tell anyone that would listen, that her thoughtful sister had gotten it specially made for her from imported grass-fed goats. I remember asking her why it mattered that the goats were grass-fed, but Andromeda just ruffled my hair and told me that I wouldn’t understand because I was a bloke. That seemed like such a silly excuse because you’re a bloke too, and I’m sure you would understand why imported cashmere was better than regular cashmere—whatever that means. I probably should have asked you…because now I’ll never know the difference.

 

I tried my best to keep silent as I watched Andromeda from the stairwell, but seeing her beautiful features so etched in pain and knowing that I was helpless was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, which is saying a lot, considering some of the atrocities I have witnessed. I watched her slowly swaying back and forth in her old rocking chair; she was clutching an old doll that although I had never seen it before, I would bet at one time had belonged to Narcissa. Her face was completely blank, her blue eyes listless and empty. It reminded me so much of another pair of blue-grey eyes that I had previously seen. God, my heart was aching. I couldn’t believe that I had actually been excited when I first came downstairs.

 

“Cissa,” Andromeda cried softly, barely parting her lips. She looked so fragile and broken that I could feel my chest tightening up further. I wanted to wrap her in my arms so badly, but there was nothing to be done.

 

“Cissa,” she said again, this time a little louder.

 

Silent tears were streaming down her pale face and she didn’t seem to notice. She clutched the doll closer to her chest and started to mumble.

 

“Blood curses,” she said, as she stroked the doll’s pale blonde hair that was so strikingly similar to that of her previous owner. “Blood curses,” she repeated. “Blood curses aren’t real.”

 

She laughed softly and then seemed to regain a far off expression in her eyes.

 

“Please, not Teddy. Not Teddy…take me instead.” She continued rocking back in forth in her chair and stroking the doll’s hair. “At least Draco’s strong,” she whispered. “I don’t have to worry about him.”

 

At that point, Andromeda broke into destructive sobs, and I couldn’t take it any more. I had imposed long enough—and this kind, albeit broken woman deserved her privacy. I let the poor woman mourn in peace and returned to my room.

 

I didn’t sleep at all that night.

 

 

 

 

 

**: : :**

 

 

 

After witnessing Andromeda in the rocking chair, I tried my best to keep to my room at night, even if I couldn’t sleep. I had never heard of blood curses before, and I wanted to know more about them. Yet, it wasn’t my place to ask Andromeda, especially because I could never admit to spying on her. I have always been shit at research, so I did what I always do when I have questions and asked Hermione about them. Hermione laughed when I asked her about blood curses; she insisted that they didn’t exist and were an old pureblood legend. She suggested that Andromeda was still in shock over her sister’s death, so she was coming up with possible reasons for her sister’s suicide—even if they were completely irrational and ill-founded like blood curses. At the time, it made me feel better, but I still worried about Andromeda’s mental state.

 

“How can I help her?” I asked Hermione, hoping that as always she would have the answer to my problems.

 

“Oh, Harry,” she said. “You can’t fix this. She’s lost so much—her husband, her daughter, and now her sister—just be there for her and help with Teddy. You have to give her time. Only time can help and heal her broken heart.”

 

Of course, I hadn’t liked Hermione’s advice, but as always, she had been right. All I could do was be there for Andromeda and pray that she would heal quickly.

 

“Yes, Hermione, I’ll try my best.”

 

I promised Hermione that I would no longer spy on Andromeda, and that I would give her some space, hoping that I wasn’t lying through my teeth. Certainly, I would do anything to help Andromeda and Teddy. In a short time, the middle-aged woman and her grandson had become my family, and I was fiercely protective of them. If only there was something I could do. For the first time since the end of the war, I called upon Narcissa’s memory and cursed her fervently. How dare she hurt my Andie so badly? And you, _you_ were probably affected by this too, even if you didn’t show it.

 

 

 

 

**: : :**

 

 

 

Although her method of healing was a bit peculiar, it slowly seemed to work because barely a month after Narcissa’s death, Andromeda seemed to be getting better. Colour had returned to her pale cheeks, she starting eating more than just sweets, and one day even insisted that we take Teddy out to the park. I could not have been happier to see Andromeda make such progress; things were looking up for us. I was getting my family back and was finally able to start enjoying my extended holiday—until that dreaded day, so many months ago, which changed things so severely for us again.

 

For many reasons, I have never been a big supporter of the press. Reading the paper just wasn’t a part of my morning routine. Andromeda, however, was a different story. Perhaps it was because of her age or perhaps it was because she lived so far out from civilization, but Andromeda was obsessed with newspapers. She had subscriptions to all the major wizarding papers, both French and British alike, but most importantly, she read them religiously. Initially, I was horrified, knowing that she had read all the false and ghastly lies that had been published about me for so many years. Still, what the papers wrote that day was even more dreadful than anything they had ever written about me.

 

One newspaper headline read: ‘Malfoy Heir Responsible for Mother’s Death’. Another read: ‘Another Black Meets Tragic Demise, Coincidence or Not?’. I couldn’t help but feel sick to my stomach. These worthless scum reporters were actually blaming _you_ for Narcissa’s death. They claimed that you orchestrated the entire plot and then covered it up, so you could be the sole heir to both the Malfoy and Black Estates. It was the most preposterous and nauseating thing I had ever heard. How could anyone ever write such rubbish? No one would believe such blatant lies, right?

 

I don’t know what made me want to read the papers that day, but some deeper, wiser power within myself urged me to read the news. When I saw the atrocities in front of me, I wanted to dispose of all the papers— burn them and destroy the evidence—before Andromeda would see them and feel their pain. Yet, I never had the chance because Andromeda got out of bed early that day and snatched one of the papers from my hand. Her face went much paler than usual, an almost greenish colour, and she looked as if she were about to faint. I put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to appear supportive, but there wasn’t much I could do.

 

“Oh my god,” she said, her tone so similar to that first day she had heard of her sister’s demise.

 

“I-I”

 

The poor woman was in shock; she could barely speak as she in took in the appalling lies that were being spread in these sorry excuses for newspapers.

 

“I’ll get rid of them,” I told her. “I’ll cancel all the subscriptions at once. I always said they only printed rubbish.”

 

Unfortunately, Andromeda ignored my comments and refused to relinquish her grip on the paper.

 

“Oh my god,” she repeated; her blue eyes had darkened and for once, I could feel a trace of her normally weak magic crackling in the air. “I need to speak with Draco,” she said. “Right away.”

 

She quickly disappeared into the other room and I gulped loudly. Somehow, I had forgotten about you. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that you would read these horrid articles and be heartbroken. All of a sudden, my chest tightened even further.

 

“Andromeda,” I called, while making my way into the sitting room. “Is there anything I can do?”

 

“What?” she asked, her dressing gown now covered in soot.

 

“How can I help?” I asked again.

 

“Oh,” she replied frowning. “Well, I can’t reach, Draco. His Floo is blocked off and I’m worried.”

 

“Right—well—I’m sure he’s fine. You know, erm-Draco,” I said, your first name sounding so foreign and strange on my tongue, but to my genuine horror not entirely unpleasant. “He’s probably just being dramatic...or busy.”

 

“Still, I—”

 

“I’ll bet he’s fine,” I interrupted. “Why don’t you send him an owl? I’m certain he’ll respond to that.” I put my hand on Andromeda’s shoulder; she felt cold again and still too thin. I was worried for her wellbeing.

 

“He’ll probably just laugh it off. He’s tough,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Andromeda.

 

“I suppose you’re right, Harry,” she replied, although she looked far from convinced. “Let’s go have some breakfast.”

 

 

 

 

**: : :**

 

 

 

More than a week had passed since the dreaded newspaper incident, and Andromeda was frantic. She had written you several letters and hadn’t received a response to any of them.

 

“Harry,” she said, the grief obvious in her soft voice, “I'm so worried about him. He hasn’t replied to any of my owls and the last two have been returned unopened.”

 

I tried my best to offer my most reassuring smile and hugged her tightly.  
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I said, even though deep down I knew it was a lie. “Perhaps he’s just on holiday. Maybe he needed to get away.”

 

“I hope,” Andromeda said, as she continued to prepare Teddy’s breakfast in the kitchen.

 

“It’s just…not like Draco to _not_ respond to my letters.” She sighed and turned around to lock eyes with me. “He always writes back—even if it’s just a brief note telling me he’s busy.”

 

“Well—”

 

“I don’t know what to think.”

 

I smiled at the older woman, trying my best to keep the concern off my face.

 

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can ask around the Auror Department and see if they’ve heard anything.”

 

Andromeda exhaled deeply and quickly dismissed the idea.

 

“Absolutely not.” A sudden fierceness was blazing behind her eyes. “I don’t want the Aurors anywhere near my nephew. They have terrorised him enough.” She paused for a second and averted her eyes from mine. “Perhaps I should go and check on him.”

 

I looked at the frail older woman in front of me and felt a lump form in my throat. The poor woman had barely gained any strength at all in these past weeks, if she travelled all the way to England, who knows what would become of her health.

 

“Andie,” I said, hoping that my voice was kind but reasonable. “I can’t let you do that. You’re not well,” I insisted, trying to put it nicely that she wasn’t allowed to go.

 

“Harry—” she complained, “I’m not a child.”

 

“Of course not,” I snapped, “but you’re _not_ well, and I’m certain your nephew is fine.”

 

“But—”

 

I sighed loudly and ran a hand through my messy hair. Oh, the things I would do for this woman. She was completely loony.

 

“If you want,” I said slowly, hoping desperately that I wouldn’t regret these words. “I can go and check on him.”

 

Andromeda broke into a brilliant, dazzling smile. Her sapphire blue eyes lit up and her pale skin seemed to flush at the cheeks.

 

“You would do that for me?” she asked, completely astonished.

 

“Of course, I would,” I said evenly. “I would do anything for you and Teddy.”

 

She threw her arms around my neck and planted a stream of kisses on my forehead.

 

“You and Teddy are my only real family,” I said in between suffocating kisses. “If it’ll give you peace of mind, I’ll do it. Anything at all.”

 

“Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much,” she squealed. I couldn’t help but blush at her appreciation.

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

The last thing I wanted to do was to visit Malfoy Manor and be hexed by you, but as I told Andromeda, I would do anything she asked of me, always.

 

 

 

 

 

**: : Four : :**

 

 

 

 _“You hate someone whom you really wish to love, but whom you cannot love. Perhaps he himself prevents you. That is a disguised form of love.”_ ~SC  [4]

 

 

**: : :**

 

 

If I had known that to boost Andromeda’s spirits all I had to do was agree to go visit you, her most wretched nephew, then I would have agreed to do it weeks ago. That morning, Andromeda was a different person; it was as if a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and in rare moments, like when she was baking her famous lemon scones, I could see a glimpse of the former serenity and wisdom she used to radiate constantly.

 

In the last few weeks, I had put my not-so-highly-developed culinary skills into practise, and unfortunately, they had never progressed much from my former days of burning bacon in Little Whinging. Even Teddy was starting to protest that he didn’t want to eat mushy ‘pasghetti’ again, so I was grateful to have Andromeda reclaim her role in the kitchen that morning. She fixed the three of us a delicious lunch and even prepared a couple of meat pies for dinner. Her main hit though were her scrummy lemon scones.

 

It had been so long since she had made them last, and although I usually favoured chocolate éclairs, treacle tart, and other afters, Andie’s lemon scones were among my favourites as well. I found it strange that Andie insisted on eating lemon scones as an after rather than with tea, but it was a Black family tradition. Narcissa had started it when she was a little girl, and of course, Andie and her darling nephew, liked to keep the tradition alive. In fact, lemon scones were her nephew’s _favourite_ she had explained to me, which was why she was baking them. She was baking a special batch for me to bring to _you_ on my visit. You lucky sod, Andie never bakes _me_ scones, and I figured you wouldn’t even appreciate the kind gesture.

 

It’s ironic how much Andromeda adores you now; it’s as if she knew that now that Narcissa was gone, you were going to need another mother, and she was more than happy to fill those shoes. Not too long ago, I remember her bad-mouthing Lucius Malfoy repeatedly and claiming that even though she didn’t know her nephew, she was positive that the insolent child was exactly like his father. If anyone were to say a negative word against you today, even if it’s me, she’ll have my head on a platter.

 

I couldn’t help but feel jealous that Andromeda was fussing over you so heavily since she had practically ignored me for the last few weeks, but I knew that my jealousy was ill-founded. You had just lost your mother, for Merlin’s sake, and were living alone in that dreary manor; as much as I didn’t like you at the time, I still felt that you deserved someone’s compassion, just _not_ mine.

 

 

****: : :****

 

 

 

 

After a satisfying lunch, I made my way to Wiltshire. I hadn't been inside the manor since the war, and I was not looking forward to facing my past ghosts and _you_ at the same time. The one time I had seen your mother after her trial, she insisted that we meet in Diagon Alley. I suppose she understood that I wouldn't want to visit her at Malfoy Manor, no matter how honourable her intentions were. Even during Narcissa's funeral, I kept to the gardens and the adjacent Malfoy chapel. I just couldn't bring myself to go inside the haunting manor house, and Andie didn't seem crazy about the idea either. Besides, it's not like _you_ had invited me in for tea anyway; you didn't even talk to me that day, and I was positive that you wouldn't be particularly happy to have me stopping by the manor unexpectedly. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what I was sure would be a heated confrontation.

 

When I finally reached Malfoy Manor, I wasn't sure what to expect. I was expecting to feel fear, dread, to see flashes of Voldemort and Death Eaters, perhaps. But none of that happened. All I felt was empty, and somehow, the manor was even more worn and desolate than I remembered it. The formidable front gate had been left slightly ajar—the golden 'M' that had once stood for power and prestige was dangling, barely hanging on by its hinges and slightly crooked. Now, it almost appeared to be an 'E' rather than the once intimidating 'M'. There were broad hedges, which enclosed the meandering path that led to what had once been a charming, ancestral manor house, but was now just a bleak shadow of its former glory. I remembered the hedges to have been neatly clipped and surrounded by vibrant flowerbeds and even a few white peacocks. Now, they were completely overgrown and bedraggled; there wasn't a peacock in sight.

 

I was more than a little shocked that you had allowed the manor to fall into this derelict state, but that was the least of my worries. As I approached the manor door, I could tell that something was wrong. It was a dark and dreary afternoon. It had rained all morning, and the sky was still entirely clouded over; yet, the manor was completely dark. There wasn’t a light on in any areas of the vast house, not even in what I knew to be the house-elves’ quarters. The manor appeared abandoned and discarded, and I desperately hoped that you had gone on some luxurious holiday in the Med because the alternative was unimaginable. As much as I hated your stupid, pointy face, I couldn’t help but feel a lead weight growing and gnawing at my stomach. Merlin, I really regretted eating that second helping of pudding.

 

Why did I care what happened to you anyway? You were a foul git—you always have been.

 

As I knocked on the foreboding door, I held my breath. Everything would be fine, I assured myself. It had to be...for Andromeda’s sake. And as loath as I was to admit it, for my sake too. For some reason I just couldn’t explain, I cared what happened to you too. I wanted, no I needed, you to be all right.

 

 

 

 

 

**: : :**

 

 

 

 

The next few hours, turned out to be some of the longest of my life.

 

I had knocked incessantly on the door of your manor, but when no one answered, I tried a quick unlocking spell and the door opened easily. It was as if the house knew that its master was in trouble; all the wards that I knew had once been in place granted me access. I hesitantly searched the manor for any signs of you or at least one of the many house-elves, but the long, garish corridors were dust-ridden and empty. It appeared that the elves had taken a holiday or at least gone on strike because it was evident that they had been neglecting their duties. I tried not to panic since I hadn’t seen any evidence of danger or foul play, but I still couldn’t shake that niggling feeling in my gut.

 

I continued wandering around the empty manor when I came across the dining room—the long, cherry oak dining table had been broken in half and the dozen Ashford leatherback chairs that usually surrounded it were overturned and strewn across the room. The antique china cabinets had been smashed open, and it appeared that all the expensive porcelain had been looted and the everyday tableware had been shattered. My heart started pounding furiously, and I cried out your name, not caring that I sounded hysterical and frantic.

 

I ran down the endless corridors utterly lost and helpless. Something terrible had happened; I was just so sure of it, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, I came across a lone house-elf cowering in the corner of the kitchen. It was banging its large head repeatedly on the nearest cupboard.

 

“Blood...Blood...” it squeaked. “So much Blood.”

 

Immediately, I felt a deep pang in my chest, but I tried to remain calm.

 

“What are you talking about? Tell me,” I demanded, my voice harsh and authoritative.

 

The creature ignored me. “Blood...blood,” it continued to squeak.

 

I had the greatest urge to shake the blithering creature into compliancy, but I wouldn’t gain anything by terrifying the house-elf. No, I needed to get it to trust me. I knelt down on the floor next to the elf and attempted to speak as kindly as possible. “What’s your name?”

 

“Blood...blood...so much blood,” the elf continued whimpering, now rocking itself back and forth and completely ignoring me.

 

“I’m Harry Potter,” I tried again. “And I need your help.”  
The elf stopped rocking and met my gaze; it opened its large mouth up and starting wailing, a dreadful shrill howl.

 

“Stop that.” I was starting to get impatient now. “I need your help.”

 

The creature continued sobbing and ignored my request once again.

 

“Your master sent me,” I said, trying to make eye contact with the barmy creature.

 

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because the elf started sobbing even more hysterically and then latched onto my leg.

 

“Master, Master.”

 

“I’m not your master,” I snapped, trying to shake the elf off my leg unsuccessfully. “Where’s your master?”

 

“Bad men,” it said, finally meeting my eyes again.

 

“What are you—”

 

The wretched creature tightened its grip on my leg and screeched even louder; streams of black tears were falling down its long, ugly face. Who knew that house-elves cried black tears?

 

“Bad men...hurt Master,” the small elf choked out. “Bad, bad men.”

 

“Who? Where is your master?” I demanded. I was yelling now and once again trying to remove the elf from my appendages, but it was no use. It was as if the heinous creature was glued onto me. Desperation was choking me—an overwhelming urge to see you _right that instant_ caused the air to tangibly tense with my uncontrollable magic. The house-elf was clearly mental because you had to be okay— _had to_ —because Andromeda would not be able to handle losing you too. Not after everything else that had already been taken from her. And somehow, I knew that I couldn’t either.

 

“Stop crying,” I threatened. “If you don’t stop crying...”

 

My harsh words seemed to have no effect on the elf; if anything, they were only making her scream louder. I was beyond panicked at this point and needed to do something and fast.

 

“Please,” I said, using my softest voice. “I’m a friend of Dobby’s. I’m sure you remember Dobby.”

 

The small elf stopped crying and nodded vigorously.

 

“That’s good. I really liked Dobby,” I continued. I hated thinking about that mad elf. It still broke my heart knowing that he sacrificed everything for me, and I couldn’t even give him a proper burial. But now was not the time for regrets. I was desperate and needed this other elf to help me.

 

“I’m a friend of your master’s too. Where is he? Did something happen to him?”

 

“Master...Master,” the small elf sobbed, her big eyes filling with tears again.

 

“No, don’t cry. I need you to be brave. Please, for Dobby. Dobby was so brave.”

 

The elf didn’t stop crying, but at least she had released her death grip around my leg.

 

“Thank you. Now, where’s your master?”

 

“Bad elves. All left. Only Binky stay...bad, bad elves.”

 

I took a deep breath and tried to remain patient.

 

“It’s okay, Binky,” I said kindly. “You can tell me. I’m going to help your master. What happened?”

 

The elf brought its knobby knees to its chest and started rocking back and forth again. “Blood...blood...bad, bad men.”

 

“Binky, please.” This was getting ridiculous now. If you truly had been attacked, then listening to an incoherent and blithering house-elf was not going to help, and every second spent coddling Binky was a second wasted with your life on the line. I was about to give up and seek you out myself when the elf got up and wrapped itself around my legs again. This time, however, it Apparated us with a quick snap to a large parlour room.

 

 

**: : :**

 

 

 

I had never been inside that room before, and under normal circumstances, it would have been a lovely room with its stunning baby grand piano in the centre of the room and its elegant wall of windows. On the opposite end of the room, there was an antique vanity that was covered in cobwebs and a small fireplace that was adorned with a large, portrait of the late Narcissa Malfoy. Luckily, it wasn’t an enchanted portrait because at that moment, I don’t think I could have faced the late Mrs Malfoy, particularly because of what I encountered below. There you were—lying in the corner of the room, huddled on the floor next to the unused fireplace.

 

I let out a sharp gasp, as I saw you lying there, all bruised and battered on a top of a blood stained sheet. You were broken and motionless, and I was shocked by the sudden consuming need to seek out whoever had harmed you and make them pay dearly—perhaps even with their lives. You were lying face down, and all I could see were patches of pale skin peeking out from under tattered, bloody clothing and your long, white blond hair that was stained with blotches of crimson.

 

I stroked your silvery locks and was surprised to find that they were still baby soft even while covered in blood. I gently turned you over in fear of further aggravating your already prevalent injuries. Yet, when I turned you over, I gasped; I knew that you would have injuries, but I wasn’t ready to encounter your usually pale face, which I had memorised from watching you so many years in the Great Hall, looking so incredibly broken. Rather than being its usual almost transparent white, your skin was grey; your high cheekbones were protruding and bruised. Your pale lips were covered in dried blood and almost blue in colour. You needed help immediately.

 

“Malfoy,” I said, while shaking you carefully. “Malfoy, can you hear me?”

 

You didn’t respond and I felt my heart clench, threatening to rip itself from my chest if I didn’t do something and quick. The tumult of feelings that washed over me were almost too much to handle: grief, loss, fury, confusion, and most importantly fear. I was afraid that I was too late, that I wouldn’t be able to save you. I needed you to wake up, begged you to open your eyes, but you just laid there limp in my arms as I softly stroked your fair hair that looked almost golden in the faint daylight, which was finally starting to peer through the windows. I held my breath and cast a quick Vitality Charm, desperately praying that you were still alive. Thank Merlin that I had learnt that handy spell back in the war; otherwise, I would have lost it completely.

 

I let out a sigh of relief when my wand glowed a faint red, meaning that you still had a pulse, but it was dangerously weak. It didn’t matter though, as long as it wasn’t green, everything would be fine. It had to be. There was still time to save you. I just needed help and fast.

 

“Binky,” I said, summoning the elf who was now hiding underneath the piano. “What happened? How long has Malfoy been like this?”

 

The small elf crept further behind the piano, but answered me softly.

 

“Master sick...long, long time.”

 

“Binky?”

 

“Binky find Master on floor yesterday.”

 

“Yesterday!” I roared stepping away from your motionless body and faced the elf, the sheer rage on my face causing the elf to tremble visibly. I felt my blood start to boil. If you had been unconscious since perhaps as long as yesterday, then why hadn’t the elf informed anyone? Why hadn’t she helped you?

 

“Binky find sheet for Master,” the elf stammered out, now starting to shake violently underneath the piano.

 

“Well, why didn’t you get help? Why didn’t you tell someone?”

 

“Binky can’t—can’t...” Before the elf could finish her sentence, she started sobbing uncontrollably and banging her head against the underside of the piano.

 

“Binky sorry, bad, bad Binky.”

 

“Never mind,” I said, trying to appease the frantic creature, “Just help me now.” I motioned over to your limp body. “We need to get him to St Mungo’s and immediately. I can’t carry him alone, and I’m afraid to cast any spells on him in his condition.”

 

“No,” Binky squeaked, so quietly that I almost couldn’t make out the word. “No.” She was rocking back and forth again, and although I knew that Hermione would probably kill me, I was about to fling the stupid elf out the window.

 

“What do you mean...NO?” I could feel my magic crackling beneath my fingers. If I didn’t relax, I was going to lose control of my magic at any second. “This is your master we’re talking about. You _have_ to help him. It’s your duty.” I crouched down next to the piano and stared the wretched elf straight in its big, bulging eyes.

 

“If you don’t help him,” I said darkly, “he’s going to die. And it’ll be on you,  _elf_.”

 

“No...no...no!” Binky started wailing again, but slowly crawled out from underneath the piano. She wiped the black tears from her eyes and even though she was still hiccupping, she tried to explain. “Binky want to help. Binky love Master. Binky can’t leave Malfoy Manor.” She sniffled again and her voice started cracking. “Binky...wanna...die!”

 

“Shit,” I shouted. “You’re tied to the manor. Is that what you’re telling me? You physically can’t leave?”

 

The small elf bobbed its head up and down.

 

“Fuck. No, no, no.” My head was spinning; I knew that I needed to do something, and I was running out of time. Every minute that I was standing here arguing with this ridiculous elf was a precious minute wasted that you might never get back. There was no way that I could Apparate you to St Mungo's alone—chances were that you wouldn’t survive the journey. Besides, I didn’t know how to transport your body without risking further injury. What if I splinched you?

 

But still, I couldn’t just leave you there. I needed to do something—if only I had listened to Hermione and taken that Healer training class at Hogwarts.

 

I cast another Vitality Charm on you and noticed that your vitals had dropped even lower; if something wasn’t done immediately, there was a good chance you would die.

 

I took a deep breath and turned to the shivering elf again.

 

“Binky,” I said evenly. “I need you to listen to me and listen to me carefully. I am the sole heir of Sirius Black; he was your Mistress’s cousin who was also a Black. Do you understand?”

 

The small elf nodded again.

 

“Good. That means that I’m technically a Black too, so I can give you orders if necessary.”

 

The small elf looked hesitant and opened her large mouth to protest, but then appeared to change her mind and nodded once.

 

“So,” I said in my most commanding voice. “You _will_ help me move Master Malfoy out of here. I know that you cannot leave the Malfoy Estate, but are you bound only to the Manor? What about the other Malfoy properties?”

 

“I-I don’t know,” Binky croaked.

 

“Do you know where your Mistress’s house is in the south of France? The one she gave to her sister?”

 

Binky nodded again, this time more furiously.

 

“It’s pretty there.”

 

“Right. Well, I order you to Apparate all three of us there right away. Do not waste any more time or make me repeat myself.”

 

“Binky can’t leave Malfoy Manor,” she squeaked again; she was starting to sound like a broken record now, and it was getting on my nerves.

 

In an effort to compose myself, I bit down on my bottom lip much more furiously than I had intended. My mouth was stained with blood now; I could feel a sharp sting from the deep cut, but it didn’t matter—at least it had me thinking about something else besides your unconscious body.

 

“Binky,” I said, my voice much calmer than before. “Please, just try. For your master.”

 

The small elf looked doubtful but nodded anyway.

 

I walked over to you and cradled you in my arms as the elf grabbed onto me.

 

“If you die on me, Malfoy, _you bastard_ , I’ll never forgive you...and then I’ll summon your spirit, so I can kill you again. Do you hear me?” I shouted at your broken body, which was much too light for that of a grown man.

 

Well, here goes nothing.

 

 

 

 

**: : :**

 

 

 

**To be continued...**

 

 

* * *

  
**Author's note:** Thanks so much for reading. I took a few liberties with the binding of house-elves as well as their magic. I hope no one minds. I promise you'll find out what happens to poor Draco soon.

[3] The quote at the beginning of part three is by Franco-Czech author Milan Kundera. If you are unfamiliar with him, you can learn more about him   here .

[4] The quote at the beginning of part four is by Sri Chinmoy. Neither quote belongs to me and I take no credit for them.

Until next time,  
 **~Icicle**


	3. Parts 5-6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_

**Author:**  [](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/profile)[ **icicle33**](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/)  
 **Title:**  You Set Fire to the Rain  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Harry/Draco, past Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Andromeda and Teddy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other works that I refer to in this story. Please don’t sue me.  
 **Warnings:** For a full list of warnings refer to part 1. No real warnings for these sections except that Harry has inappropriate thoughts about Draco and his fantasies get a little out of hand or in hand.  ; )  
 **Word count:**  ~4500 +  (novel length in all)  
 **Summary:**   After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_  
 **A/N:**  A big thank you to my lovely betas: [](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/profile)[ **ashiiblack**](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/)  and [](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/profile)[ **erised_dreams**](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/).  I love you ladies.  
  
  


 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**: : Five : :**

 

 

 

 

 

_“Love comes when manipulation stops; when you think more about the other person than about his or her reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable.”_ ~DJB [5]

 

 

  


**: : :**  


 

 

The next few weeks were amongst the most confusing of my life.

 

When Binky had Apparated us to Andromeda’s house, I was a nervous wreck. I didn’t know what to do, how to get you to nearest hospital, or even how to contact a local Healer. Something about you had already broken me; carrying your limp body in my arms had awakened something deep within in me that I just didn’t understand—a feral need to protect you and destroy anything and everything that would do you harm. I never wanted to let you go again, and Andie had to pry you from my arms.

 

Thank Merlin for Andie—she was a fallen angel who handled what felt like a hopeless situation with her usual self-composure and grace. She remained completely cool and summoned the best Healer in France to deal with your injuries. They treated you right at her house and even left all healing salves and follow up potions that you would need to speed up your recovery. I have always said that Andromeda was one of the kindest women I had ever met, but during your recovery, she proved it even further. She barely left your bedside, and when she did, she made sure that I was watching over you in her absence.

 

Andie used to be a mediwitch back in her youth, so your primary Healer, Healer Moreau, allowed Andie to administer all your treatments at her house. At the time, I was eternally grateful, thrilled that we would not have to rush back to England because the last thing I wanted was to try to explain to the British press why I was keeping vigil at an ex-Death Eater’s bedside.

 

Frankly, I didn’t have an answer to that question. All I knew was that you needed me, and I couldn’t leave your side.

 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

Although Healer Moreau had treated the worst of your injuries—your broken ribs, your punctured lung, as well as various bruises and flesh wounds—your frail body remained unconscious. You remained in a coma for twelve days. They turned out to be twelve of the longest days of my life.

 

The healer believed that you had sustained a prior head trauma and had suffered from internal bleeding to the brain; however, the injury was so subtle that you probably didn’t feel any discomfort besides some uncomfortable headaches, which was mostly likely why you let them go untreated. I didn’t understand the fancy medical terminology that the healer used when describing your condition, but Andromeda explained that when you leave internal bleeding untreated, even slight internal bleeding, can cause serious complications such as shock and in your case, a coma.

 

Somehow, your healer didn’t seem too concerned. He just reasoned that these things take time, and the best thing we could do for you was let you rest, let your body heal itself and your magical core replenish. He figured that you would wake up in a couple of days. Yet, as the days dragged on, I grew increasingly worried, and I could tell Andromeda did too, even if she would never admit it. Her sapphire eyes were lacklustre again, and the bags under her eyes grew deeper with each passing day that you didn’t awaken. Even Teddy seemed to understand that something was wrong. One evening, he came into your room and attempted to read you a bedtime story, just like his Grandmother and Uncle Harry do for him when he’s sick.

 

It broke my heart to see this little boy, my little boy, so concerned about his distant cousin whom he barley knows. Yet, not as much as it hurt to watch your listless body lie there, day after day, wasting away.

 

Every day I asked Andromeda when she thought you were going to wake up, and she always delivered the same response.

 

“Soon, Harry. Quite soon.”

 

But _soon_ just wasn’t fast enough. I’ve never been a patient person. And I’ve never been good at just standing idly by on the sidelines while someone else suffers, so you can imagine my agitation when all I could do was watch you sleep and watch Andromeda care for you.

 

I didn’t even like you at that point. In my mind, you were still that same spiteful git that I had always hated. Still, I couldn’t leave your side. I needed to know that you were going to be fine. For some reason, a world without you in it, without the snarkiness of Draco Malfoy, just did not seem conceivable.

 

There wasn’t much I could do for you, and although I offered to help, Andromeda preferred to administer your healing and nutrient potions herself. Really, the only thing I could do was sit with you and keep you company.

 

So I did. I sat with you, day after day, hour after hour, and grew incredibly bored and lonely, particularly during the long nights when Andromeda retired to her quarters with Teddy. It was just you and me for countless hours, and as I watched you lying there, your pale skin glowing almost ethereally in the moonlight and your fair hair fanning out in golden waves amongst your pillow just begging to be stroked—the last thing on my mind was sleep.

 

So I talked. I talked about anything and everything from Quidditch scores to my favourite Muggle authors, but I quickly ran out of topics that I thought would interest you and was left with the only topic you knew nothing about—myself.

 

I don’t know if it was because you looked so young and helpless, like a lost, little boy rather than the 21-year-old man you actually were, or if it was because I knew you couldn’t hear me, but either way, I told you everything. All of my deepest and darkest secrets.

 

I told you about the Dursleys and how miserable my life had been before Hogwarts. I told you about how scared I had been when I first entered Hogwarts, terrified that I wouldn’t make any friends, and that I would still be that freakish Potter boy that no one ever wanted to play with. I even told you how I had begged the Sorting Hat not to put me in Slytherin, and how in second year, Ron and I had Polyjuiced as Crabbe and Goyle and tried to trick you into telling us who the Heir of Slytherin was.

 

Once I started talking to you, I just couldn’t stop myself—the secrets just kept spilling out. It was as if you were a long lost friend, the perfect listener, someone I could trust and who absolutely understood me.

 

Obviously, it was ridiculous because you were unconscious and couldn’t respond to a word I was telling you, but I liked to think that you were listening that even if you couldn’t respond, you could still hear me. Sometimes, I even made up snarky little comments that I thought you would tell me if you could actually reply, like “Potter, get over yourself” or “Potter, you really are pathetic. The world has more important things to worry about then your melodrama”.

 

It was comforting to attempt to forge responses for you. It kept my mood up and hopeful that you would awaken soon, but most of all, it kept me talking.

 

I prattled on and on for days on end, telling you everything that I liked and disliked and how confused I was about my future—how I didn’t know if I should go back to the Aurors. It was ironic because you were so mentally and physically drained those couple of weeks that your body needed the rest to recuperate itself. But I was so mentally and emotionally despondent those couple of weeks that I needed the release and recuperation as well. Without saying a word, you helped me start changing my life, primarily in accepting a distant truth about myself that I had never wanted to admit. I’ll never forget that.

 

By the eleventh day of your coma, I was starting to get frantic. Healer Moreau had come over and examined you that day to see how your recovery was going. All your test results were positive, and other than being anaemic and somewhat underweight, your body had reacted favourably to all the treatments. You were practically healed in every way, so it made no sense that you hadn’t awakened yet. He couldn’t assess your mental state without you being conscious, so he just assumed that the unless you had some sort of latent brain damage that hadn’t shown up on your scans, then the only reason you hadn’t roused yet was because you didn’t want to, because you had given up.

 

I couldn’t accept that fact, especially now that I felt we had some strange level of camaraderie at least on my end, so I decided to bargain with you. After all, you were a Slytherin and demanding something of a Slytherin without offering anything in return was sure to be a fruitless venture. Andromeda had told the healer that I had been talking to you, hoping to see if I could get a response. I thought he was going to tell me that I was mental and wasting my breath, but instead he just smiled at me and told me that it was a good idea. He explained that there was a chance, although slight, that you could hear me.

 

Well, I have always had the odds against me. I have lost count of the times that I had people attempt to kill me before I was even sixteen, but I had always emerged unscathed; somehow, I had always beaten the odds. You always called me lucky, said that I was the luckiest prick in the world because no matter what, I just wouldn’t bloody die, so that night, the twelfth night that I had sat by your bed, I pleaded with whatever higher, meddling powers existed and demanded that they help me one last time.

 

I sat by your side, gently stroking your hair, and told you that if you came back and opened your eyes that I would share my most private and painful secret with you—a secret that I had never told anyone except for Hermione and eventually Ginny.

 

I grabbed your hand that evening for the first time and laced our fingers together. It was surprising how easily our fingers fit together, your long, slender fingers, complementing my shorter, rougher ones. Holding your hand felt so right, so different from the last motionless hand I held like that, Ginny’s hand. I brushed a stray lock of your hair from your eyes and took a deep breath. I was going to keep my end of the bargain by telling you my deepest secret. I could only pray that you would keep yours.

 

 

 

 

  
  
**: : Six : :**   
  


 

 

 

_“Secrets are like plants. They can stay buried deep in the earth for a long time, but eventually they'll send up shoots and give themselves away. They have to. It's their nature. Just a tiny green stem at first. Which slowly, insidiously grows taller, stronger, unfolding itself, until there it is. A big fat secret, right in front of your face; a fully bloomed flower perfumed with the scent of deception.”_ ~JRS [6]

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

Like everything in my life, my secret was far from simple. It was a long and complicated story, so I figured that I needed to explain it to you. I needed you to understand why although I had ‘luck’ in everything I did, the one area I failed miserably in my life was relationships, starting with my relationship with Ginny.

 

Ginny.

 

Sometimes, thinking about Ginny still hurt; primarily, in instances like that night when I thought about her lying so still in a hospital bed so pale and fragile and so much like you.

 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

Coma.

 

How I hated that word, despised it really. I thought I would never have to deal with another coma, but regrettably, one of the many things you have taught me is that I’m wrong. A lot.

 

After the Battle of Hogwarts, I had felt such an overwhelming sense of relief that it was finally over—that somehow I had survived. I had been so sure I was going to die, so sure that I would never see my friends and loved ones again—that I didn’t even know how to express the immense delirium I felt after defeating that twisted bastard.

 

Naturally, the first people I sought out were Ron and Hermione. I had to make sure that they were okay; after all, before Andromeda and Teddy, they had been the only family I had ever known. When I found the two of them embracing tearfully outside the castle, my heart swelled so full of gratitude that I thought it would explode. Somehow, the three of us had made it; we had gone against the forces of hell and survived. Even with all the painful losses I suffered, losing Fred, Tonks, and Remus, as long as the golden trio was still intact, I knew that I would carry on.

 

I had my entire life ahead of me now. A life that I could do anything I wanted with—get a job, buy a flat, even get married and have kids. Hell, I was even lucky enough to have someone already that I could share my life with—someone that indescribably and irrefutably needed me, Ginny Weasley.

 

Ginny. Poor, sweet, Ginny.

 

At the time, I had thought that Ginny Weasley was the only girl in the world for me that she was my soul mate, and that we were destined to get married and have tons of little Weasley-Potter children. Perhaps even enough to start our own Quidditch team. I knew that she was mad for me, and although we had never gotten around to doing anything more than a few secret snog sessions, I was confident that everything would change since Voldemort was dead. Still, it’s funny how even though I believed this, once I was finally rid of old Snake Eyes, the thought of finding Ginny and celebrating with her hadn’t crossed my mind.

 

At the festivities in the Great Hall, I searched for everyone that mattered. I checked on all my former housemates and the DA members. I looked for the few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that I knew and even checked on the professors and other staff members. Blimey, I even checked on you and your mother, making sure that no one removed you from the Great Hall. I told everyone that the two of you had just as much a right to be there as everyone else did, and that anyone that felt otherwise would have to answer to me. Everyone left you alone after that. Defeating the darkest wizard of our time does get me some perks in the intimidation department at least. Yes, I made sure that everyone was alright and well taken care of—everyone that is except for Ginny.

 

For the longest time, I lied to myself and claimed that the reason I hadn’t checked on Ginny was because I thought she was locked away safely in the dungeons with the Slytherins. Mrs Weasley had forbidden her from fighting in the battle since she was still underage and I had fiercely agreed with her. I wanted her to be safe, and of course, the safest place was far away from evil Death Eaters and mentally unstable Dark Lords. Still, I should have known better than to trust that she would listen. Ginny has always been fiery, and she has a mischievous streak that would keep even the twins in line. Telling her to stay away from the battle, was like forbidding you from cheating at Quidditch—completely impossible.

 

Unfortunately for Ginny, she had gotten on the wrong end of a misfired curse and had tumbled down a flight of stairs, knocking her unconscious and leaving her with a serious head injury. She had been in a coma for an entire week, and of course, since I was still her somewhat boyfriend I stayed at her side. But that week had been so different from the twelve days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes that I had spent by your bedside while you were unconscious.

 

With Ginny, I just sat by her bed in an adjacent chair and watched her. I looked at her pale creamy skin, her endless array of freckles, and springy red curls. She looked so delicate and beautiful lying in that hospital bed, face completely relaxed; she reminded me of a princess from one of the fairy tales that I used to sneak out of my room and listen to Aunt Petunia read to Dudley. Her cherry lips were just begging to be kissed by her handsome prince, so they could runaway together and live happily ever after in the sunset. The only problem was that I knew that I wasn’t her prince. I didn’t have the urge, a fierce need to kiss her awake, to hold her in my arms and never let her go again. No, I no longer wanted to sit under the enchanted cherry blossoms with her—her head in my lap, as I played with her lush curls, and we poked fun at the Slytherin Quidditch team. I had spent months sleeping in that wretched tent with Ron and Hermione, watching them comfort each other and being so overcome with jealousy, that I longed to be back at Hogwarts spending lazy Saturdays with Ginny under our special tree.

 

But as I watched her lying in that bed, day after day, I knew that dream had been long left behind, way back in that tent with foolish thoughts of normalcy and a family. Or perhaps even further back, in a dark cupboard under the stairs where a little boy I no longer related to, wished and prayed that one day he would meet a beautiful girl and have a family of his own. Yes, in those long hours when I watched her, I learnt an awful truth that I had been hiding and denying for years, desperately wishing that it had been a foreign darkness intertwined into my soul by the Dark Lord himself.

 

I learnt that I was gay.

 

_Gay._

 

If I hadn’t been a freak before, I was most certainly one now. Even in the wizarding world, it wasn’t common to be a bloke who fancied other blokes. The problem was I could no longer deny it. I could no longer label my sexuality as unimportant or irrelevant—I couldn’t hide behind a war, an unstable lunatic, or even a girl who belonged to someone else. Ginny Weasley was amongst the prettiest girls in Hogwarts—so if I didn’t fancy Ginny Weasley—if I couldn’t picture myself fucking her—having her down on her knees in front of me, taking my cock in her mouth and sucking it dry. Well, then I knew I was in trouble, different from the other boys, and most importantly, that I was undoubtedly one hundred percent gay.

 

And there it was...my final and biggest secret that only one other person knew in my life. Yet, I had just shared it with you, my one time archrival. I know that I had promised that if I shared my secret with you that you would have to wake up in turn, but when it became apparent that you weren’t going to wake up, I was actually relieved. At that moment, I was glad you were unconscious, glad that you would not be able to wake up and mock me because I knew that’s what you would do, lash out at me with your cruel wit and sharp tongue, especially because I was leaving out one major part of the secret. I was leaving out the fact that somehow against all odds—and without even having a real conversation with you since the war—I was secretly and positively crushing on you.

 

Perhaps it was from spending so many hours alone in the dark, or perhaps it was because I was secluded in some small hamlet in France without laying eyes on another bloke for weeks; yet, for whatever the reason, I had lost my mind.

 

I, Harry James Potter, was fancying an unconscious Draco Malfoy, former rival and enemy, like mad.

 

It was embarrassing to admit and completely irrational because I knew that as soon as you would wake up, you would probably hex me on sight and hopefully hex my little crush right out of me. But in those twelve days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes that I sat by your bed, I had no problem fantasising about what it would be like to have your full, pink lips around my cock—your hot mouth bobbing up and down, engulfing my hard prick and sucking it dry as I massaged my fingers through your silky blond strands.

 

Yes, as I sat by your bedside and gently stroked your long, elegant fingers, I imagined what they would feel like running down my back and caressing it, massaging it deeply all the way to my arsecheeks, and then slowly pushing them apart and teasing my hole with your tongue. I almost came from the thought.

 

When I first admitted to being gay, I used to fantasise about a faceless bloke with a hard, lean body and a mouth like a hoover. A few times, I even tried fantasising about Charlie Weasley since it turned out that I had courted the wrong Weasley and much preferred the sexy dragon tamer to the beautiful Ginevra.

 

But for many days after that, instead, I fantasised about a handsome, blond man with long pale hair, vibrant blue eyes, and a creamy white complexion. At the time, I thought that my fantasy resembled the fit bloke I had seen on a hoarding advert in Muggle London, but now I realise that even back then, I was subconsciously thinking about you.

 

I’ve always been obsessed with you, even back in our school days when you were the biggest prat to ever walk this planet. I’ve always had a bit of a temper, but usually I was able to keep my cool, control myself; I had to, living with the Dursleys and their daily abuse. Still, there was always something about you that unhinged me—something that drove me wild and unleashed an inner passion and fire that I just couldn’t control. As much as I wanted to ignore you, to pretend that your insignificant pranks and cruel words were meaningless, I just couldn’t. No matter what I did, where I went, I was always on the lookout for you and your goons, telling myself that I was only spying on you to decipher your evil plans, to see where you would strike next. But the truth was that without understanding the reason behind it—my reasons for following you, my reasons for watching your every movement and motive ran a lot deeper than I had ever wanted to admit. I’m not saying that I had feelings for you back then because fuck you were such an emotionless prick, still are for the most part, but although I would have rather died than admitted it then, even back at Hogwarts, I undeniably knew that you were bloody gorgeous.

 

You still were even in your unconscious state, lying on that bed with your pale hair tied back from your face. There must have been something inherently wrong with me because it just seemed perverse to get hard over a semi-comatose bloke; yet, that last night I stood by your bed watching your lean chest rise up and down gently, I just couldn’t take it any more. I needed a release immediately, so for the first time in nights, I stopped talking to you and went back to my room instead.

 

I sat on my bed gazing up at the enchanted ceiling, which had been charmed to look like the Paris skyline and just stroked myself raw, imagining your gorgeous body lying fair and bathed in moonlight, writhing wantonly beneath me. I had never been with a man before, only that one time that I fooled around with Oliver Wood after attending a Quidditch match he had invited me to—but if I had any lingering doubts about my sexual orientation, that night they vanished. As I lay in that bed rubbing myself and wishing that it was your hand on my dick instead of my own, I knew that I was fucked—completely and entirely fucked—because the last thing I needed in my life was to become _dizzy_ for the one person I couldn’t have, the one person I knew would never return my affections—you—Draco fucking Malfoy.

 

Yet, my body betrayed me anyway, and with thoughts of silky blond hair and haunted grey eyes, I came harder than I have ever come before in my life.

 

 

**To be continued...**

 

 

 

* * *

**Author's note:** Thank you so much for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts good or bad.

**[5]** The quote at the beginning of part 5 is by Dr. Joyce Brothers and it does not belong to me. However, I felt it describes Harry and Draco's relationship perfectly, especially since both boys are vulnerable right now: Draco physically and Harry emotionally.

**[6]** The quote at the beginning of part 6 is by Judy R. Singer. It comes from her book:  _Still Life with Elephant_. It doesn't belong to me either.

 

**~Icicle**   


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_

**Author:**[](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/profile)[ **icicle33**](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/)  
 **Title:**  You Set Fire to the Rain  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Harry/Draco, past Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Andromeda and Teddy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other works that I refer to in this story. Please don’t sue me.  
 **Warnings:** For a full list of warnings refer to part 1. For this part, there are mentions of vomit for the extremely squeamish  
 **Word count:**   ~ 3000 (for this part)     
 **Summary:**  After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_  
 **A/N:**  A big thank you to my lovely betas: [](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/profile)[ **ashiiblack**](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/)  and [](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/profile)[ **erised_dreams**](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/).  You ladies are awesome.  ♥

 

  
  
**: :Seven: :**   
  


 

 

_“Lies and secrets, they are like a cancer in the soul. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind.”_ ~CC [7]

 

 

  
  
**:  :  :**   
  


 

 

 

That night I slept better than I had in a long time.

 

When I woke the next morning, I felt the sun beating down on me, piercing through the sheer silver curtains that Andromeda had chosen to adorn my room. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that as lovely as the curtains were, they did a shit job at keeping out the sun. Usually, it wasn’t a problem because I was an early riser, but that day the hot and heavy scorching of the sun told me it was much later in the day. It was half past noon when I roused that afternoon, almost thirteen days since I had found you bruised and beaten at Malfoy Manor. I could tell that something felt different; there was a fierce energy in the air, crackling from behind the door and across the hall, radiating in small waves from what I knew to be your room. Every cell in my body vibrated as if trying to pull me towards you. Even today, I can’t understand it, but somehow I knew that you were awake.

 

I ran into the hallway and almost trampled Andromeda whose face was lit up like a Christmas tree, beaming at me with that dazzling, radiating smile of hers, and I knew that it was true. She just nodded at me poignantly and said, “Harry, it’s finally soon.”

 

I knew what she meant and I could feel her jubilation and relief that you were awake, alive. Yet, rather than returning that joyous feeling, her triumphant smile, I felt my stomach twisting into wrenching knots, sour bile ramming its way up my oesophagus. And although I was able to push it back down and not be sick all over the carpet, I ran right past Andromeda and locked myself in the closet bathroom. I banged my head against the vanity mirror and attempted to relax, to take deep breaths and regain my composure. My attempts were futile, however, because a few moments later I lost the entire contents of my sloshing stomach. At least I was near a toilet.

 

Although I had spent almost two weeks watching vigil by your bedside, praying that you would rouse, now that you were actually awake, the last thing I wanted to do was see you.

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

For the next two days, I did everything in my power to avoid you.

 

Andromeda and Teddy were ecstatic that their darling nephew and cousin had awoken. They couldn’t talk about anything else. And indeed, I was relieved that you were awake, but every time they brought your name up, I had the sudden urge to empty my stomach again. Luckily, Andromeda had insisted that you stay on bed rest for at least a couple more days, and since I had thrown up my guts at least three times since your awakening, I was able to feign illness and pretend that I didn’t want your delicate immune system catching my stomach bug. Andie had rewarded me with one of her brilliant smiles again and kissed me on the forehead.

 

“Oh, Harry,” she said dreamily, “you’re such a good person, always looking out for others. I’m so proud of you. Is there anything you want me to tell Draco for you, dear?”

 

I felt my cheeks redden at her kinds words. If only she knew that the real reason I didn’t want to see you was because I was afraid I would jump you, then I don’t think she would have been kissing me. I had no idea what to say to you, which was absurd because I had just spent countless hours talking to you and telling you my life story.

 

“Erm,” I said while biting down on my bottom lip. “Just tell him that I’m glad he’s okay.”

 

“Okay, dear. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that,” Andie said with another smile.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I muttered to myself.

 

I spent the rest of my time feeling sorry for myself in my room and trying to understand how I had let myself fall for a bloke that hated the sight of me—a bloke who in fact didn’t even exist, not really, because the you I had fallen for was the angelic, unconscious version of you. Most definitely not the haughty, obnoxious twat version of you that was now lying awake and hating my guts in the room across the hall.

 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

I have always been pants when it comes to hiding my feelings.

 

I always hoped that as I got older, I would learn to conceal my emotions; I figured it was a trait that came with age. It didn’t seem fair that someone like you, or Andromeda even, could keep their faces blank and expressionless, remain cool and aloof no matter the situation.

 

No, the next few days with you were positively maddening.

 

As you grew stronger, you demanded that you no longer wanted to stay in bed or be treated like an invalid. You insisted on at least taking your meals with the rest of us in the dining room and being allowed free range of the house. When I spent those couple of days locked up in my room avoiding you, I had played out our first meeting repeatedly in my head. The various outcomes held everything from you hexing my bollocks off to you running into my arms and snogging the daylights out of me. I never imagined the outcome that actually occurred.

 

The first time I saw you again was at breakfast. It was four days since you had awakened and sixteen since I had carried you back from Malfoy Manor. My heart was hammering when I saw you, sitting at the breakfast table so casually, eating your toast like it was the most natural thing in the world and reading the morning paper. I just gaped at you longingly because if I had thought that you were beautiful before lying in bed all bruised and broken—well, seeing you at the table properly dressed in fitted black trousers and a pressed white button-down made my heart flutter and my breath hitch.

 

“Ma-ma-Malfoy,” I finally groaned out, my teeth chattering and hands shaking.

 

You didn’t even look up from your toast; your head was still stuck in a newspaper as you coolly said, “Good morning, Potter. Nice of you to join us.”

 

And that was it. You didn’t say another word to me the entire meal or even bother to look up at me. It was as if I didn’t matter at all, as if I were a complete stranger.

 

I was too dumbstruck to reply.

 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

The next week passed in much the same manner.

 

I don’t think we had a longer conversation than the polite but frigid greetings you offered me at every meal. During the day, you excused yourself after breakfast and didn’t reappear again until dinner. I’m not sure what you spent all that time doing. Okay, that’s a blatant lie; a couple of times, I was much too curious about your whereabouts and reverted to spying on you again, soothing my guilty conscience by convincing myself that you were probably up to something.

 

You just _had_ to be.

 

Unfortunately, most of the times, I just found you in Andromeda’s library, lounging in an old leather armchair and reading a thick novel, or out back by the gardens taking long walks with Teddy and teaching him about potions ingredients. Watching you act this way, so withdrawn and unruffled just infuriated me. I was sure that you had brain damage; your trauma to the head had inconceivably altered your personality because the quiet but pensive man I saw running around with his cousin Teddy and helping Andromeda in the kitchen could _not_ be you.

 

It made no sense—this polite but distant manner that you were treating everyone with, most notably me. You barely acknowledged me at all, no matter what I said to you, and the harder I attempted to get a rise out of you, the more you just looked at me with sad, glazed eyes and ignored me—like I was so insignificant and beneath you that you couldn’t be bothered. It was completely unexpected. And it broke my heart.

 

I was used to your brashness. I could deal with your venomous tongue and cold glares because at least I knew that they were fuelled by passion. But dealing with your indifference was almost too much to bear. Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy. 

 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

After about a week of your indifference, I was losing my mind. Completely.

 

I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t you. I was in a constant state of panic and unease and even Andromeda was starting to get concerned.

 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Harry?”

 

She was constantly checking my temperature and making me load up on extra nutrient potions.

 

“I’m fine, Andie,” I always assured her. “I just had a little trouble sleeping. That’s all.”

 

My excuses were starting to get feeble; even you, who couldn’t stand to spend more than ten minutes in my presence, seemed to notice I was twitchy.

 

“You, alright there, Potter?” you asked me one morning, meeting my eyes for only a second, but that second was long enough to make me forget to breathe.

 

“You’re looking a little green there. What are you missing your adoring fan base?” You smirked at me. I should have realised that it had no malice behind it, but instead I lashed out at you.

 

“What’s it to you, _Malfoy_?” I snapped. “Don’t pretend like you care—”

 

“Potter—”

 

For a second, I thought I saw a flicker of emotion behind your stormy grey eyes, but by the time I blinked it was gone; your condescending Malfoy mask was back in place.

 

“No, just stop,” I shrieked at you, my hands shaking at my sides. “What are you still even doing here? You’re well now. Why don’t you take your ungrateful arse back to England and just sod off?”

 

I glared at you, a look of pure contempt that was full of all the pain, frustration, confusion, and pent up anguish that you had created in me.

 

“You’re such a leech, Malfoy, mooching off your aunt, a poor, sick old woman. That’s low even for your standards. She just feels sorry for you. She can barely stand you.”

 

I was panting now, my cheeks flushed and upper lip snarling like a voracious predator closing in on its prey. “And I feel sorry for you too,” I said, never once breaking contact from your sharp glare. “You are pathetic. Get it through your thick skull... _we_ don’t want you here!”

 

I couldn’t believe what I had done—the utter lies I had just told you—but it was too late to take it back. The damage had been done.

 

For a second you looked stunned, regretful even, but then you just bit your bottom lip, like you always do when you’re upset, and nodded resignedly at me.

 

“You’re absolutely right, Potter,” you said evenly; your grey eyes appeared dark, but expressionless. “I’ve imposed on my aunt’s kind hospitality long enough. I’ll be gone in the morning.”

 

Then you walked away from me, leaving me stunned and frozen to the spot.

 

What the hell had I done?

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

 

I spent that entire morning bashing my head against my wall.

 

Why had I been so stupid? Why did I say that to you? And why the hell did you agree with me?

 

I was so angry and frustrated that you continued to ignore me, so much so that I lashed out on you in the vain hopes of getting some type of response. It was stupid and childish. For once, I finally understood how you must have felt back at Hogwarts, trying your best to get my attention—because any type of attention from the famous Harry Potter, your arch nemesis, was better than no attention at all. I had reverted to the maturity of an eleven-year-old schoolboy.

 

I behaved like an arsehole, a complete and total prat, I know. I needed to make things better, to make amends with you before Andromeda found out and had my head on a plate. I just wasn’t ready to face you yet. I couldn’t even stand being under the same roof with you, knowing those horrible, despicable, unforgivable lies I had just told you. You just seemed so resigned and defeated when you left, as if you actually believed me. You have never listened to me before. Why the hell would you start now?

 

No, I needed to get away; there was no way I could handle seeing your dejected face. I told Andromeda that Ron and Hermione were coming into town to meet me for lunch, so that I was going to spend the day with them. I told her not to save me any dinner. Of course, it was a total lie. Apparently, I was becoming a pathological liar, lying about absurd things like lunch dates and having friends that care, just so I wouldn’t have to see your face. It was pathetic.

 

No, I was pathetic—completely and utterly pathetic. 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

After leaving Andromeda’s house, I started wandering around the quaint town of Ceps, if you could even call it that, where Andromeda’s house was located. In actuality, Ceps is only a minuscule hamlet of Roquebrun in the Languedoc-Roussillon region of France. It’s a mouthful I know, and I’m sure I butcher the pronunciation every time I say it, but I’m actually quite proud of myself that I finally remembered. I just kept repeating it over and over to myself as I aimlessly walked far away from Andromeda’s concealed villa to the banks of the Orb River. I followed the long trail that curved alongside the infinite river for what seemed like hours, taking the longest possible route to Roquebrun and praying to find some type of wisdom or hidden truth in the clear, flowing waters.

 

I was so disgusted with myself that I couldn’t even bring myself to enjoy the grandeur nature that surrounded me—the lush greens of the endless canopies of trees, the sweet lingering bouquet of the summer wind, and the rapid splash of the rugged waters crashing against the rocks—both healing and raw, as if it were renewing them and cleansing them of all their imperfections. If only, the waters could have done the same for me.

 

Bollocks.

 

No matter what I did, even if I convinced you to stay—I would continue to walk around half-dead inside, yearning to reach out and touch you, comfort you, protect you from ever being hurt again. It made no fucking sense. I barely even knew you, so why did I have this overwhelming need to protect you and be close to you?

 

It just wasn’t an option. You had made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing to do with me. It wouldn’t be fair if I were to ruin your life and possible happiness because of my petty jealousy.

 

God, I was being such a hypocrite telling you to leave and to stop mooching off your aunt. What the fuck was I doing? I was the one overstaying my welcome here on some misplaced noble sentiment that I was paying my debt to Remus and taking care of his son. Hell, in the last few weeks I had barely even spent time with Teddy. I had been on a one-way ticket to crazy town, wearing Draco Malfoy shaped blinders, and not seeing anything else.

 

It was insane, beyond insane really, and all because what—you have a nice arse, soft hair, pretty skin? I had completely lost touch with what actually mattered in the world and could no longer carry on like a lovesick schoolboy. You didn’t return my feelings. Christ, you probably weren’t even gay. No, I needed to get over you and move on, which was never going to happen under the same roof as you.

 

Yes, I had made my decision, finally a rational one.

 

I was going to apologise to you and then tell Andromeda that I had to get back to England. I would make up some excuse about Kingsley needing me. It was brilliant. That way, you could stay here with Andromeda and Teddy, your actual family by blood, and I could go back to London and be miserable with almost a thousand miles between us.

 

**To be continued**...

 

* * *

**Author's note:** Thanks for reading and try not to kill Harry.

[7] The quote at the beginning of the chapter is by Cassandra Clare and comes from her Infernal Devices Series. I take no credit for it.  



	5. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_

  
**Author:**[](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/profile)[ **icicle33**](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/)  
 **Title:**  You Set Fire to the Rain  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Harry/Draco, past Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Andromeda and Teddy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other works that I refer to in this story. Please don’t sue me.  
 **Warnings:** For a full list of warnings refer to part 1.  No warnings for this part, but you do get a tender scene between Andie and Draco.  
 **Word count:**   ~ 3500 (for this part)     
 **Summary:**  After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_  
 **A/N:**  A big thank you to my lovely betas: [](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/profile)[ **ashiiblack**](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/)  and [](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/profile)[ **erised_dreams**](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/).  You ladies are awesome.  ♥

* * *

**: :Eight: :**

  


 

 

_“Dread remorse when you are tempted to err; remorse is the poison of life.”_ ~CB [8]

 

 

**: : :**

 

 

When I made it back to Andromeda’s, it was half past eleven.

 

I don’t know how I squandered the day so quickly, but I did. I think I was wasting as much time as possible, so that I wouldn’t have to face Andie or Teddy when I got home. By now, Andromeda probably knew what I had said to you, how I acted like a coward, a monster. My Andie has always looked at me with such a reverence, her vibrant eyes beaming at me and showing me that I was her hero, her protector. She said I was the son she never had.

 

The day I brought you back from the manor, Andie hugged me fiercely and wept tears of gratitude, thanking me for saving her nephew, her only family member other than Teddy, and her last remaining connection to Narcissa. She had called me an angel, her godsend—first defeating Voldemort and then reuniting her with her long estranged but favourite sister. Obviously, I hadn’t only saved you for her; I had also saved you for my own selfish reasons, but one of them was to see that look in her eyes, to know that I was the one that removed her pain.

 

How could I deal with the fact that I was the cause of pain for the one person in my life who counted on me blindly and completely? It was like taking a punch to the gut.

 

I couldn’t bear to lose that look, her blatant adoration and complete trust. It was the same look that Ginny had given me after saving her in the Chamber of Secrets and that Hermione had rewarded me with countless times through our adventures at Hogwarts. Oh, how I had adored those looks and the ability to right all wrongs in the world for my loved ones, for my favourite girls.

 

But I had let them down, both Hermione and Ginny, and now they no longer graced me with that look. They claimed they still loved me—that they still held me up on a pedestal—their special Harry Potter pedestal that no other boy could ever touch, but I knew it was a lie. Yes, they still loved me, but I had long fallen from that pedestal and there was no climbing back up unless I could find a way to bring back the dead. I know they don’t blame me, but if I had killed Voldemort sooner, then Ginny never would have been in a coma or lost her favourite brother. And Hermione never would have been tortured by Bellatrix or raped by that low life Scabior.

 

No, Andie was the only person who still had complete faith in me, and I had let her down.

 

That night, I was afraid that I was going to lose not just you but my family as well.

 

 

  
  
  
**: : :**  
  
  


 

 

Before making my way to your room, I stopped in the kitchen and poured myself a large glass of firewhisky. I had already indulged in a few pints over dinner, but I needed a little more liquid courage before facing you. I was petrified that it would be the last time I would ever lay eyes on you again. My stomach contorted painfully just from the thought, and I’m sure it wasn’t because of the firewhisky.

 

As I stood outside your bedroom door trying to find the courage to knock, my knees weakened and my hands started to shake. Gryffindor courage my arse. I had faced a Dark Lord, taken on an army of Inferi, Death Eaters, and Dementors without batting an eyelash, but I couldn’t make myself knock on your door. I was a coward and pathetic and didn’t deserve your forgiveness. I was about to turn around and go steal the bottle of firewhisky from the kitchen when I heard voices behind your door.

 

The door had been left slightly ajar, and if I backed up at a slight angle, I could make out the inside of your room perfectly.

 

You were sitting on your bed, your long legs pulled up to your chest, and you looked positively adorable in your blue flannel pyjamas that had obviously been a gift. You were biting on the much too long sleeve of your shirt, and looked much more like an adolescent boy than a grown man of over twenty years.

 

Andromeda was sitting in the large, leather chair that sat in the corner of the room and was regarding you with a furrowed brow. She was softly asking you about something, but I couldn’t make out the words.

 

I know that it’s wrong to eavesdrop; it’s not noble, it’s backhanded, and goes against everything that Gryffindor stands for, but when it comes to you, I’ve never been rational or even particularly honourable. I didn’t care if you caught me and hexed me into next week with your nasty Furnunculus curse. I desperately needed to know what was being said, particularly because I was certain that it was about me.

 

”Augmentum sonus,” I whispered, stepping closer to the door and hoping that the charm would be strong enough to make out your conversation.

 

“Draco, I don’t understand,” Andromeda said, while running a hand through her messy hair. “Aren’t you happy here? Did we do something to offend you?”

 

You stopped biting on your sleeve and looked at Andromeda with wide eyes. “No, Auntie, no,” you insisted. “It’s nothing like that. You’ve been absolutely wonderful. And I owe you my life.”

 

Andromeda’s frown relaxed slightly, but she still looked concerned.

 

“Then what is it, Draco? Make me understand.”

 

“I just have to get back that’s all,” you said, while staring at wall. “There’s plenty of things for me to take care of at the manor. And—I”

 

Andie got up from her chair and sat down on the bed next to you, placing a hand on your knee. "What are you talking about, love?”

 

“I’ve...I’ve imposed on your hospitality long enough,” you muttered, biting on the cuticles of your thumb and still avoiding Andromeda’s gaze. “Just...just because you’re my mother’s sister, and you look so much like her...it doesn’t mean—”

 

Your voice was cracking now, and I watched you swallow heavily, most likely trying to hold back a sob.

 

Andie shuffled closer on the bed and attempted to meet your sheepish stare. “Darling, you’re worrying me,” she said softly. “What are you on about? You can tell me anything.”

 

“Don’t...please don’t make this harder, Auntie.”

 

“Draco—what is it, son?” Andie said, as she wrapped an arm around you and tried to bring you closer.

 

“I’m not your son!” you snapped, raising your voice to a harsh, cold tone, which was so different from the low, gentle drawl you usually answered Andromeda with. “Just stop it okay! Stop pretending that you care, stop feeling obligated.” You roughly pushed her away, and Andromeda looked crushed from your grave accusations.

 

“Draco...”

 

“You don’t owe me anything, okay?” you said evenly, your voice no longer cold. “Thank you for everything. It’s more than you needed to do, much more than I deserved. And I won’t be bothering you anymore.”

 

Your voice was hitching again, and I watched you attempt to choke back another sob; however, this time, you failed and finally gave into your inevitable tears. It broke my heart to watch you cry, to see you suffering because of cruel words that I had said.

 

“Stop it, love. Stop talking nonsense right now,” Andromeda cried, her voice calm but firm. Her own blue-grey eyes, so similar to yours, were also glistening with unshed tears. “Come here,” she insisted, patting the spot closest to her on the bed.

 

But you just sat there, frozen in the farthest corner of the bed, and wrapped your arms tightly around your knees. You looked so miserable, defeated, and I felt a deep pang in my chest threatening to dismember my last bit of self-possession.

 

“No. Please, don’t. Don’t touch me,” you whimpered as Andie reached out and tried to pull you in her arms. You were squirming and fighting her, your arms flailing, but it didn’t seem like your heart was in it.

 

“Shhh. Stop fighting it’s okay, love,” Andromeda soothed, as she continued to hold you. “Just let it out. Let it out.” You finally stopped struggling and let her pull you closer to her chest. You threw your arms around her neck forlornly and clung onto her as if you were no older than a toddler was.

 

“Gods...I just...I-I miss her so much.” Your voice was so soft and anguished. “And—you...you look so much like her and when—”

 

“Darling...”

 

You hid your face in the older woman’s shoulder. I couldn’t make out what you were saying; you were muttering something incoherent in between sniffles. Perhaps not even words any longer. But it didn’t matter, I understood. You were a frightened, broken boy who had just lost the only person you thought cared for you. Yet, if that wasn’t hard enough, seeing Andromeda this beautiful and kind woman who looked so much like your mother, having her take care of you and hold you close, must have been like being faced with a ghost that you could never shake. It must have been unbearable.

 

“Shhh, love, it’s okay. I miss her too. I miss her too. Every day. Every minute,” Andromeda cooed softly, while rubbing circles down your back.

 

“But—”

 

“No buts—listen to me, Draco,” she whispered in your ear. “Why would you think that I don’t want you here? What in the world could have given you that absurd idea?” You pushed away slightly from Andromeda’s embrace and peered at her through your messy fringe.

 

“I-I. Well...I am a Malfoy...and you hate my father.” You lowered your voice to barely a whisper now as you pulled back farther completely freeing yourself from Andromeda’s embrace. “And...I look just like my father...so-so you must ha—”

 

“Listen to me, young man. Do not even finish that sentence. Do you hear me?”

 

I heard you groan lightly, but you didn’t argue. You had crawled back into the farthest corner of the bed, against the wall and were hiding your head in your knees, your fine hair sticking to your stream of tears. I looked at Andromeda’s face at that moment, and she looked so stunned, completely crestfallen. It was obvious that she blamed herself for your irrational behaviour. If only she knew the truth.

 

“You are my nephew, Draco Malfoy,” she said sternly as she inched closer to you on the bed but still far enough away to give you some space. “You’re my favourite sister’s son...and while you might be a Malfoy by name...you are a Black by _heart_.”

 

At those words, you picked your head up from your knees and looked at her shyly, with wide, innocent eyes. Fuck, who ever knew that Draco Malfoy could look shy, innocent, and dejected? If I wasn’t in love with you before, if somehow I only lusted after you because of your good looks—well, in that moment it changed. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to run in there and hold you in my arms, kissing away every teardrop. Hermione always told me that I had a knack for helpless causes, a soft spot for the outcasts. As usual, Hermione was right.

 

Do you know what I see when I look at you, love?” Andromeda asked after a short a pause, trying her best to offer you a smile.

 

“A—an insolent brat,” you sniffled, still hiding behind your hair.

 

Andromeda laughed, but it was a kind laugh rather than a mocking one. She scooted closer to you and ruffled your golden hair, which due to the moisture was now hanging in loose waves around your neck.

 

“No, well maybe a little,” she quipped, “but what I really see in you, insolent brat and all, is your mother.”

 

“Ma—Mother?” you stammered, in a voice so soft and innocent that I just wanted to hug you and kiss you to pieces. Andromeda’s eyes softened at your juvenile tone, and I could tell that she shared my sentiment.

 

“Oh yes, love. You are so much like her.” She gently pushed back the fringe from your eyes and tucked it behind your ears. “It’s in your eyes, in your delicate features, in the way you laugh.” She paused for a second and put her hand over yours. “But most importantly, love,” she said, “it’s in your heart.” She squeezed your trembling hands and smiled at you widely, rewarding you with her most tender smile.

 

“Darling, you have such a beautiful heart.” You turned and looked at her slowly, your large eyes growing wider by the second. “I know that you do,” she continued and offered you another reassuring hand squeeze. “But you just close yourself off from the world; you don’t let anyone in. And I understand, trust me I do. Your mother was the same.” Andie paused for a second and bit down on her lip, her eyes clouded for a moment, as if she were off in a distant memory.

 

“Your mother,” she tried again, her voice less wistful this time. “She pretended to be so tough about _everything_. But I knew the truth about her, and I’m sure that you did too. Deep down your mother was a kind and compassionate soul, who was just afraid of getting hurt. And...I can see the same in you, love.”

 

“No, Auntie, I’m—I’m not a good person, not like _you_. Not like—”

 

“Yes, you are, dear. I know that I haven’t been around for most of your life, and it kills me that we lost so much time together. But...I’m sure you know that your father and I never saw eye to eye on many things...or anything at all, really.”

 

“I assumed that.” Your voice was normal now, and I could have sworn that I saw a small smirk playing on your lips.

 

“Well, your mother has told me about him...about what it was like for you growing up with him. And, love, I can’t tell you how impressed I am with the man you’ve become.”

 

“Yeah, right.”

 

“No, really, Draco. You had no positive role models in your life. Not counting your mother, who even though she tried her best...she made a lot of mistakes.” She paused and looked you over, her eyes so full of love and admiration that it almost made me jealous. “Still,” she continued, her eyes sparkling now, “even though your father dropped you deep into the darkness, put you in a hopeless situation...you still made it out. You still knew what was _right_.”

 

She beamed at you again, another one of her radiating smiles, this one even more dazzling than before.

 

“I—I suppose so. That seems about right.”

 

“Of course, it is,” Andromeda insisted with a soft chuckle. “I’m always right...I’m a Black.” She lifted her chin in a manner so haughty and hauntingly familiar that it was as if Narcissa was sitting there beside you rather than her sister.

 

I heard you chuckle in return, more of a chortle really, and I realised in that moment that I had never heard you laugh before. It was a genuine laugh, not the cruel sniggers and sneers I was so used to hearing from your lips. And my heart clenched again, wishing that I were in that room, being your source of laughter rather than your source of tears.

 

There was a short pause and Andromeda was embracing you again, removing any lingering doubts you might have had about her love for you.

 

“So, it’s settled then, you’re staying and there will be no more of this utter rubbish that you aren’t wanted.”

 

You gulped loudly and furrowed your brow at her.

 

“No, I can’t...and he said...”

 

“Who said what?”

 

“No, it’s just that...Potter said that—”

 

“For Merlin’s sake, child, do _not_ tell me that these theatrics were brought upon by something that Harry said.”

 

“No,” you protested, “it’s not that. It’s just that I still think it would be best if I leave. For everyone.”

 

Andromeda placed her long, elegant hand under your chin and tilted it towards her, never looking away from your big, rueful eyes.

 

“Why would you think that? We’re all so happy you’re here, love. I couldn’t be happier and Teddy adores you. I told you even Harry doesn’t mind...”

 

You pulled your head away from Andromeda and looked down at the floor again, hiding your tear-streaked face behind your long fringe.

 

“He said that you didn’t want me here, okay. That you only let me stay here because you felt sorry for me and that I was...” Your eyes filled with tears again, and I could see the large drops fall silently and seamlessly down your face. “It’s nothing. It’s not important.”

 

Andromeda is a very calm person; she doesn’t get agitated easily and never gets unruffled. Well, in that instance, Andromeda did not keep her cool. She gasped loudly and her cheeks reddened; her vibrant eyes, which usually appeared so soft and gentle, were now burning with a fury that I had never before witnessed.

 

I knew that I was totally fucked.

 

I gulped loudly and backed away from the door. It seemed like the perfect time to leave and hide in my room, pretending to be sound asleep for the rest of the night. I’m not sure what the two of you said in the rest of your conversation. I never had the guts to ask. However, I’m assuming it didn’t paint me favourably, so it’s just as well that I left.

 

Either way, I knew that there would be hell to pay first thing in the morning.

 

 

 

**To be continued...**

 

* * *

**Author's note:** Thanks for reading. I just adore this rare and tender moment between Draco and Andie, and I hope you enjoyed it as well.

 

**[8]** Quote from _Jane Eyre_ by Charlote Brontë . I take no credit for it. I'm sure at least a few people guessed this one. = )

 

**~Icicle**


	6. Parts 9-10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_

**Author:**[](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/profile)[ **icicle33**](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/)  
 **Title:**  You Set Fire to the Rain  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Harry/Draco, past Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Andromeda and Teddy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other works that I refer to in this story. Please don’t sue me.  
 **Warnings:** For a full list of warnings refer to part 1.  Mentions of background Draco/OC  
 **Word count:**   ~ 6000  (for this part)     
 **Summary:**  After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_  
 **A/N:**  A big thank you to my lovely betas: [](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/profile)[ **ashiiblack**](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/)  and [](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/profile)[ **erised_dreams**](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/).  You ladies are awesome.  ♥  
  


* * *

 

**: : Nine: :**

 

 

_"You can close your eyes to the things you do not want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you do not want to feel."_ ~HJP  [9]

  


**: : :**  


 

That night, I didn't get much sleep.

 

I couldn't stop visualising your woeful, tear-stained face and latent but profound sobs in my mind. I had always seen you as so withdrawn and detached from the world, from your feelings; you seemed ruthless and unaffected by anything that was thrown at you no matter how cruel or vindictive. It was as if you wore an impenetrable suit of armour that nothing could destroy. I've always hated you for it, envied it really, and wanted to find a way to crack your shield. I thought it would bring me peace, satisfaction, but now that I had finally achieved my goal, it felt all wrong. Instead of celebrating, I felt like a worthless pile of shit. And worst of all, I couldn't take it back. No matter what I said, the damage was done. You would never get those tears back or that sleepless night.

 

It just didn't seem fair. For the second time in my life, I had broken you and caused you an almost inconsolable amount of pain. Why did I do these things? These were not the actions of the hero I was supposed to be. A real hero would never lash out and keep trying to strangle the only person in the world that I wanted to hold in my arms and call my own. I was more defective than even you were.

 

Christ, I had only wanted to tame the fierce dragon not slaughter it.

 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

The next morning, I planned to sleep in. Under no circumstances, was I ready to face Andromeda or your pained, dejected face just yet. Unfortunately, Andromeda had other plans. Andie has always been respectful of my privacy, even before I lived with her and only came for short visits. She was the perfect hostess and never disturbed her guests or made a ruckus in the morning no matter how early she rose. In fact, she would barely even knock on my door in fear of troubling me. Well, that morning she stormed in at barely half past seven and didn't bother to knock. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her bright eyes blazing. She raised all the shades in the room to ensure that as much sunlight as possible was blinding me, and then she tore the comforter from my grasp and vanished it. To say that she was brassed off would be an understatement.

 

Things went pear-shaped rather quickly, and she lectured me for the good portion of an hour. She raved at me about how immature, petty and cruel my behaviour had been, how she had never expected such callous antics from the likes of me, and how she had never been more disappointed. If that wasn't bad enough, then she had to bring up the fact that she spent half the night attempting to console you, her _poor_ nephew, who thought that not a single person cared for him in the entire world.

 

Hanging my head in shame, I just listened to everything she threw at me. If anything, she was being kind. I deserved worse, much worse. When she was finally done fuming at me, I slowly met her disillusioned eyes and knew that I had fallen from my final pedestal. There was no turning back. Not for lack of trying, but I couldn't hold back the pools of tears that had been threatening to flood my eyes since the beginning of her speech. I swallowed what was left of my shoddy dignity and told her that I would pack my things and be gone my lunchtime.

 

Apparently, I had put my foot in my mouth again because Andie's face turned a violent shade of red, and she pursed her lips in such a sour fashion, which was so reminiscent of Aunt Petunia that I was afraid she was going to lash out and strike me. Instead, she took a deep breath and pulled me into an almost suffocating embrace.

 

"Harry James Potter," she said, her voice stern and eyes locked in that 'don't you dare argue with me' look that only an irate mother could perfect. "You are absolutely forbidden to leave this house! What in Salazar's name is wrong with you?" She pulled me closer to her chest and held me tighter if that was even possible. It was getting hard to breathe. "You and that obtuse nephew of mine are both ridiculous. You're both cut from the same cloth, I tell you. Both of you thinking that I want you to leave...I've never heard such rubbish in my life." She released one hand from our embrace and started running it through my matted hair.

 

"Oh, Harry," she sighed and continued playing with my hair. "Don't you know how much I love you? How much I love having you here?"

 

My voice was caught in my throat, so I only nodded my head in response. Andie released me and then lifted my chin to meet her eyes.

 

"Listen to me," she said, her voice serious and dark, "because I'm only going to say this once." She took a breath but never broke contact with my anxious gaze. "You, Teddy, and Draco are my only family. I've already talked to Draco, and now I'm telling you the same thing."

 

I had never pictured Andromeda as a particularly threatening woman before, but at that moment, I was terrified.

 

"Draco has agreed to stay for the summer," she continued. "The four of us are going to have a perfectly lovely summer together. And with Salazar as my witness you and that berk of a nephew of mine will get along or there will be hell to pay!" She paused for a second and regarded me, her eyes fierce and penetrating, in order to prove that she was completely serious.

 

All I could do was gulp in response.

 

"Do you understand?"

 

I nodded my head and stared at the floor.

 

"Splendid, dear." She released my face and then smiled at me kindly as if nothing was wrong at all. "Let's go have breakfast."

 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

When I joined the others at the breakfast table, I wasn't sure what to expect. I was afraid that I would see you again in your adorable flannel pyjamas with your hair all ruffled and your eyes blotchy and panic-stricken. Imagine my surprise, when the man that greeted me was as far removed from the broken child I had glimpsed last night in your room as possible.

 

It was only a quarter after nine when I entered the dining room and my hair was sticking up in all directions since I hadn't bothered to run a comb through it yet. I was clothed in an old Gryffindor tee shirt and some old sweats that had probably belonged to my cousin Dudley at some point, but I still found them absurdly comfortable and wore them often around the house. As I made my way to the table, I was greeted warmly by Teddy who was also still in his pyjamas, which just happened to be blue flannel as well. A small smile crossed my lips at seeing the little boy look so endearing, and it didn't leave my face until after I greeted Andie who was uncharacteristically clothed in only her dressing gown and a pair of silk pyjama bottoms. I assumed that I had disrupted her morning routine, which was why she was at the table in such an unusual state of disarray.

 

But when I finally spotted you, sitting at the head of the long table, I couldn't help but gawk.

 

You were dressed impeccably in fitted black trousers and a perfectly pressed blue oxford shirt; your long hair had been brushed and was loosely tied back hanging neatly at the nape of your neck (most likely to keep it from falling into your runny eggs). God, you are so fastidious sometimes. You looked positively edible in that smart outfit, and it almost hurt to look at you. Still, what was most striking about your appearance was your eyes. Yes, they had slight bags under them, which you had tried to cover up with a poorly placed glamour—the vain git that you are—but it was their utter lack of emotion that threw me. Your eyes appeared an almost midnight shade of blue rather than the clear grey I had witnessed the night before, and they were no longer bright and panicked with unshed tears. Your gaze was hard and detached again, impenetrable like two jaded stones staring through me.

 

Watching you sit there so calmly was unnerving. You sat there regarding me coolly as if you didn't have a care in the world and hadn't spent the last night on the verge of an emotional breakdown. I was flabbergasted and couldn't do anything but gape at you with my mouth hanging open and what had to be a stupefied expression on my face.

 

"Good morning, Potter," you said, greeting me as casually and naturally as if we had been friends for years.

 

"Erm—" I stuttered sounding even more idiotic than I felt.

 

"What's the matter, Potter? You look like someone just drowned your pet crup."

 

You sounded much too pleased with yourself, and I finally had the familiar urge of wanting to hex that smug smirk off your face. You were so infuriating. One minute your Adonis beauty dumbfounded me, and the next I wanted to rearrange your haughty face.

 

"Don't tell me even the saviour of the wizarding world gets lovesick?" Your eyes were utterly amused and your smirk grew wider.

 

"Shut it, Malfoy," I snapped, finally regaining my voice.

 

Andromeda cleared her throat and at least you had the decency to look abashed.  
"I was just kidding, Potter. Just a little joke between two old school chums. No harm done."

 

You turned to your Aunt and rewarded her with your most charming and innocent smile. It was breathtaking and once again, I felt a sharp pang in my chest, my anger completely forgotten. Andie seemed satisfied and then excused herself to fetch some raspberry jam for Teddy.

 

I looked down at my plate of runny eggs and burnt toast, pretending that it was the most interesting thing in the world. God, I hated toast and eggs. I didn't understand why we couldn't have bacon or those delectable French pastries again for breakfast. I really needed comfort food if I had to sit across from you and your smug face at every meal. I would much rather spend the time stabbing you repeatedly with my fork.

 

But I had promised Andromeda that I would play nice with you, and I was intending on keeping that promise even if we had to spend the rest of the summer drenched in silence.

 

"So, Potter," you said, interrupting the uncomfortable silence that continued to grow between us.

 

"Yes, Malfoy?" If you were going to pretend to be polite in Andie's presence, then I could play that game too.

 

"Teddy and I are taking a walk over to my vineyard later. It's almost harvesting season, and I want him to help me sample the different grape varieties in order to choose the best varietals for the blends this season," you said, your voice calm and nonchalant, as you carefully cut up your eggs in bite-sized pieces.

 

What was wrong with you? Who the hell eats their eggs like that? Not even Teddy needed to cut his eggs into such small pieces. And who owns a vineyard for Merlin's sake?

 

"That's nice," I replied, trying my best to keep my tone polite rather than sardonic.

 

"Oh yes," Teddy finally piped in. "Cousin Draco is _so_ smart, Uncle Harry. He knows everything!"

 

"Does he now?"

 

My godson was bouncing in his seat and waving around his toast as he looked up at you with a besotted grin plastered upon his face. I had almost forgotten that Teddy was in the room and couldn't help but feel resentful that my godson was regarding you with such awe. He obviously thought the sun shone out of your much-too-gorgeous-for-your-own-good arse, and I didn't like it one bit. He was _only_ supposed to smile at me that way. I was supposed to be his hero, not you. What kind of role model would you be for a small child anyway?

 

I watched you chuckle at Teddy's enthusiasm and then return his smile. "Well, I don't think I know _everything_ , Teddybear, but close."

 

Bugger, now you were using pet names for my godson as well. I vomited in my mouth and had to transfix my gaze on the eggs again to stop myself from showing the revulsion in my eyes. Ugh. Without thinking, I had smashed my eggs into what appeared to be an unappetising plate of yellow goo.

 

"Have you ever been to a vineyard before?" you asked, your voice still cool but neutral. I was impressed that you had actually managed to keep your usual condescending tone to a minimum.

 

"Can't say that I have." I still didn't look up from my mushy eggs, which there was no way I was actually going to eat now. Fuck. I was going to be starving until lunch.

 

"Why don't you join us then?"

 

My head quickly jerked up from the plate and I gaped at you. "No."

 

Of course, Andromeda had chosen that exact moment to come back from the kitchen and did not look pleased at all.

 

"Harry," she warned.

 

"I mean...no thank you. I have a previous engagement."

 

Andromeda looked appeased and you continued to regard me closely, but didn't appear to be fazed by my sharp answer.

 

"Perhaps another time then."

 

"Right."

 

 

  
  
**  
**: : :**   
**   
  


 

 

The next day that followed was complete hell.

 

Apparently, you didn't take the hint and continued to invite me to do asinine things with you like go for a walk or read Teddy a bedtime story. Okay, the truth was that I very much wanted to accept your invitation, but deep down I understood that the only reason you were inviting me was because of Andromeda. It was all a lie, and you probably would have rather spent a day defanging Blast-Ended Skrewts than spend an afternoon in my company.  
That's not what I wanted. Not at all. I wanted so much more than that, and if I couldn't have it, then it was better not to have anything at all. Yes, it was enough that you were being polite to me. That was much more than I ever had before.

 

Besides, I could tell that you were up to something; you had to be, because if there was one thing I had learnt from watching you for so many years, it was that you were never nice to anyone without having ulterior motives. This time was no different. I just hadn't found your true motives yet.

 

I had to find a way to avoid you as much as possible and spy on you at the same time. Bloody hell, living under the same roof with you was like being back at Hogwarts all over again. On the bright side, there was no psychotic Dark Lord trying to murder me this time.

 

 

 

 

  
  
**: : Ten : :**   
  


 

 

_"People find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than for being right."_ ~JKR [10]

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

Either you got more cunning since leaving Hogwarts, or it was because you no longer had an impending murder hanging over your head, but avoiding you was starting to get impossible. I had to feign illness and hide out in my room all day just to stop you from cornering me and inviting me on some other inane activity.

 

After spending the day locked in my room, I thought I had finally outsmarted you and survived one more day _Malfoy-free_. Unfortunately, since I had missed dinner, my traitor of a stomach decided it needed a midnight snack. Why I didn't just ask Binky or that other elf to bring me something, I'll never know. But when I snuck back into my room, a pale, slender figure was sitting crossed-legged on my bed.

 

Oh, fuck.

 

"Malfoy, what the hell are you doing in my room?"

 

The door slammed shut and you wandlessly lit a small candle that sat on my nightstand. There was more than enough light with the fierce moonlight piercing through the windows; you were just showing off as usual. You cleared your throat and dismissed my harsh tone.

 

"Listen Potter, you've been avoiding me for days now. I just want to talk to you. That's it."

 

"I have not. I've just been busy," I lied, thankful that it was still somewhat dark in the room because my cheeks always redden and give me away when I lie.

 

"Well, you're not now."

 

"I am actually...I'm going to eat this sandwich." I pointed to the sandwich and crisps I had in my hand and sat down on the bed as far away from you as possible. "So if you don't mind, I had rather you leave."

 

"No."

 

"What do you mean no? This is MY room!" I put the sandwich down on the bed and reached for my wand, but you were quicker and disarmed me. Fuck.

 

"You're reflexes are slow. Must be all those greasy crisps you eat," you quipped. "No wonder they kicked you out of Auror training." You had that smug look plastered on your face again that I just despised, and with your face glowing in the candlelight, it was uncanny.

 

"I don't have time for this. Just get out," I demanded, but naturally, you ignored me and helped yourself to one of my crisps.

 

"Not bad. Anyway, you eat and I'll talk. I'll make it quick...I _promise_."

 

I eyed you warily, trying to discern any evil ulterior motives that you might have had. Certainly, you couldn't be trusted. "No. Just get out, Malfoy. I don't want you here." I gulped as you narrowed your eyes, glaring at me darkly.

 

"You made that _perfectly_ clear the other night," you drawled, your voice no longer kind. "I know you don't like me, but I'm not leaving."

 

My cheeks flushed, burning even hotter than before, so I started playing with the crisps on my plate. "Malfoy, about that—"

 

"Save it, Potter," you replied, your voice harsh now, cold. "You showed bollocks talking to me like that. Don't ruin it now with a useless apology we both know you don't mean."

 

"Erm-"

 

"Just let me say my piece and I'll be out of your hair, okay?"

 

I let out a loud sigh and finally gave in. Whenever I stare into those gorgeous eyes of yours for too long, I always give in.

 

"Fine, you have five minutes."

 

You crossed your legs and started twirling my wand in your long, pale fingers; they glowed white in the faint candlelight.

 

" _Silencio_ ," you muttered, and my voice disappeared from the back of my throat. I wanted to shout at you and curse you into oblivion, but there wasn't much I could do without a voice or a wand. I guess that was the point. You are such a bastard.

 

"I can't have you interrupting me, Potter. I'm only going to say this _once_ , so listen closely." You turned around and faced me; your white blond hair glittered in the candlelight and appeared golden. Your full lips were swollen and just begging to be kissed.

 

"I don't normally do this." You sighed again and rubbed your face with your hands. "Okay, I _never_ do this. But it _has_ to be done. I heard...no I know...that you were the one that saved me from the manor...you and that _stupid_ elf who refused to leave the manor no matter how many times I banished it." You bowed your head and ran your hands through your long hair, mussing it up. "Fuck, why is this so hard?

 

"Malfoys don't do apologies. Don't expect that from me. But I need to thank you for saving my life. _Again_."

 

You paused for a second and bit down on your bottom lip, making it swell even further. I wondered if you knew just how sexy that made you look, if you did it on purpose. I moved closer to you and nodded; it was the only thing I could do since you had stripped me of my voice.

 

There was a static electricity in the air; the small candle that you had lit was flickering uncontrollably, and I could have sworn that I saw flecks of green and gold fluttering behind your eyes. Your eyes were silver again and clear, so much like that night I had seen you talking with Andromeda and so different from how you usually look at me.

 

"Look, that first time you saved me I didn't thank you because..." You averted your eyes from my unwavering gaze and stared down at your hands, pretending they were suddenly interesting. "Because...I thought you _owed_ me.” You chucked, a dark but endearing chuckle that I couldn't help but love. "I mean you tried to kill me, right? Almost succeeded...but since you saved my life we were even."

 

You bit down on your bottom lip again and starting furrowing your brow. "And Mother," you said, only faltering slightly on what was still a painful subject. "She told me how she saved you. I-I told myself that made us even. That you had done it out of guilt...or something." You placed my wand back on the bed and whispered, " _Finite Incantatem_."

 

My voice returned to the back of my throat, but somehow I was still speechless. All I could do was gape at you. Who were you and what had you done with Draco Malfoy? I should have tested you for Polyjuice.

 

"But—I should have at least thanked you for testifying for my family." Your voice was steadier now. "You didn't have to do that...and now for taking care of my aunt and cousin."

 

"Ma-Malfoy," I finally stammered out. "You don't have to—"

 

"Yes, I do. But _don't_ get used to it. I don't do this whole soppy feelings tripe. That's Hufflepuff and Gryffindor bullshit. Not me."

 

"Oh, of course," I said, smiling, "I would never expect it."

 

When you returned my grin, albeit sheepishly, my heart swelled and fluttered unreasonably.

 

"Well, I'll let you get back to your sandwich." You got up from the bed and extinguished the candle.

 

"And Potter," you said, while pausing in the doorway, "you don't have to avoid me like I have dragon pox. I won't bite."

 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

 

After you left, I sprawled out on my bed and just stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours; my sandwich lay forgotten. What the hell had just happened?

 

You are an enigma to me, Draco Malfoy.

 

I used to think I had you figured out—that I knew everything about you. Clearly, I don't know anything.

 

First, I thought you were just a spoiled, arrogant brat that had the world at his feet, but felt the need to bully everyone else around him when he didn't get his way. Then, I thought you were an evil Death Eater who wanted nothing more than to follow in daddy's footsteps and become a part of Voldemort's inner circle. Luckily, I was wrong on both accounts, for the most part. But then again, I wasn't sure what you were really like. You were always so guarded and closed off, collected but aloof. I just assumed that was the real you. Yet, there are moments like that night, when you were earnest and thoughtful—or moments like the other night, when you were scared and broken.

 

How could you be so many contradictions all at once? It just wasn't possible. Who the hell was the real Draco Malfoy? I was desperate to find out.

 

A slight breeze blew through the room, and the small, silver candle that you had previously lit caught my attention. I dipped my index finger into the hot wax and rubbed it between my fingers, taking in its smoothness and warmth. It smelt like summer rain and musky grapes, which was odd considering it wasn't supposed to be scented. The candle emitted gentle wisps of smoke, which was normal for an extinguished candle, but the odd thing was that rather than being black or grey, the faint wisps were silver and streaked with flecks of green, gold, and even red. It was very peculiar; I had never seen a candle behave like that. Oh well, it was probably just a special type of candle that Andromeda had purchased, something magical and expensive.

 

Yes, that had to be it.

 

I put the peculiar candle and images of those hauntingly beautiful silver eyes far from my mind and slept better than I had in a long time.

 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

 

The next morning, I awoke refreshed and ready to make some changes in my life.

 

My dreams had been plagued with images of a strong but caring Draco Malfoy, and I needed to know if that could be a reality. We would never be lovers, but if I could at least have you as a friend, a real friend, then I would settle for that. So far, I had been silly, but I was no longer going to waste this precious opportunity.

 

I strolled into the dining room with a huge grin upon my face; I was finally going to accept one of your invitations—hopefully it would be for one of your excursions with Teddy that would be fun rather than educational. Unfortunately, you were nowhere to be found. Andromeda told me that you had stepped out to spend the day with friends and wouldn't return until later.

 

She explained that you had spent many summers in this house, so you knew the area well and made friends with the surrounding children of other wizarding families.

 

"Oh," I said, trying hard to conceal my disappointment.

 

"Harry," she said, "don't tell me that now that Draco's gone you actually miss him? You've been avoiding him for days."

 

"Um-well, I thought maybe we could do something. You know...try to be friends." I knew that my face was as red as a tomato and wished that I could drown myself in Teddy's porridge.

 

"Well, I think that sounds like a lovely idea, Harry. I'm very proud of you." Andie leaned over and rewarded me with a kiss, causing me to blush ever harder.

 

"Just ask Draco to visit with you when he gets back."

 

 

 

  
  
**: : :**   
  


 

 

But you didn't come back.

 

I waited for you all day, and you didn't show up until the next day around teatime. I was furious that Andromeda was so nonchalant about your absence. She was thrilled that you were off having fun with your friends. How could she not be concerned? What if something had happened to you?

 

Nothing had.

 

Finally, you sauntered in sporting your outfit from the previous night. Your silk shirt was untucked and not buttoned properly; your hair looked as if you had met the wrong end of an electrical socket, and worst of all, you were sporting a big, goofy grin that only made the situation worst.

 

You reeked of old scotch, smoke, and sex; I couldn't decide if I was disgustingly turned on or if I wanted to vomit. "Where have you been?" I demanded, not even bothering to keep the agitation out of my voice.

 

"Huh?" You threw your blazer on the closest chair and looked at me. It was as if you hadn't even noticed that I was in the room staring at you this entire time.

 

"Good morning to you too, Potter."

 

"It's past four in the afternoon." I was gripping the table furiously in order to keep my cool.

 

"Is it?" Your voice was so casual that I wanted to hit you again. "I hadn't noticed."

 

Andie noticed the tension in the room and tried her best to break it up. "So, dear...it looks like you had a good night."

 

You pulled out a chair and slumped into it resting your elbows and head on the table. "It was fabulous, Auntie. Just fabulous." You smiled a stunning, captivating smile that warmed my heart and helped soothe the green-eyed monster that was threatening to claw its way out of my chest.

 

"That's wonderful, darling. I'm so glad you had fun." Andie bent over and kissed you on the forehead as she ruffled your messy hair.

 

"Stop—" you whinged.

 

She shrugged off your protests and only further mussed your hair. "Love, it was already a disaster. If anything, I'm making it better." She was laughing now, a beautiful earnest chuckle that was infectious, and you joined in with her as well, tilting your long neck back and cackling wildly. It was so obvious that the two of you were family, both with the same dazzling grin that could light up an entire room and those unfazed yet radiant eyes. I felt as if I were a watching a touching scene out of a Muggle film, and I was most definitely an intruder. I didn't fit in with these chic, aristocratic people.

 

I was just about to excuse myself from the table when Andromeda had to ask the one question I didn't want to know the details about.

 

"So...tell us about the girl?"

 

You arched one of your perfectly groomed eyebrows at your aunt and frowned. "What makes you think there was a girl?"

 

"Oh child, that grin on your face says it all. I know a happily shagged look when I see it." She sighed wistfully. "I was young too, once upon a time."

 

"So what—" you interrupted, "that doesn't mean I have to tell you about my personal relations. That's private, Auntie."

 

"Come on, love. When I was your age, your mother and I used to—"

 

You opened your eyes wide and leered at Andromeda. "Okay, okay...I'll tell you. Just please—don't tell me about you and Mother prowling for blokes." You pretended to shudder. "It'll give me nightmares."

 

Andromeda bit her lip in a manner so reminiscent of you that I briefly wondered if perhaps you had inherited the trait from her. "You wound me, Draco. Your mother and I were quite fanciable back in our day. Everyone talked about the beautiful Black sisters."

 

"You're still beautiful, Andie," I chimed in, desperately trying to change the awful topic of conversation.

 

Andie patted my hand and sent me a warm, genuine smile. "That's very kind of you, Harry, but I'm an old woman now."

 

"No, he's right, Auntie. You are still a Black, and like you said, Black blood is beautiful. All the Blacks are blessed with beauty. Woe is our curse."

 

You dramatically flicked your head back and your hair over your shoulder as if you were a famous actress or perhaps a hair model. Andromeda was lost in a fit of giggles and as jealous as I still was, I was able to send you a smirk as well. You always find a way to make me laugh, even when I'm livid with you or utterly miserable. Your impressions really are quite funny now that I'm no longer the target.

 

"The girl..."

 

"Ah yes. Well, she wasn't a girl." You raised your eyebrows again and smiled salaciously. "Not at all. She was a woman; a drop-dead gorgeous woman, who was hopelessly fit."

 

"Sounds lovely," Andromeda replied, her eyes soft and amused.

 

"She is. She's Russian, Svetlana something or other and could be a model, Auntie. She's like 6 feet tall with golden blonde hair and green eyes." You sighed and were lost in thoughts, which were probably filthy memories. "She's the perfect woman, really."

 

Andie put a hand on your bony shoulder and smiled knowingly at you. "It sounds like you are quite taken with this girl."

 

"Well, I am," you said, still grinning, "especially since she barely speaks any English."

 

"I didn't know you spoke Russian, Malfoy," I said, again trying to change the subject before my head exploded.

 

You turned and sent me a lewd smirk. "I don't, Potter...other than a few curse words. That's the beauty of it."

 

You were laughing that absurd, charming laugh of yours and I couldn't help but join in.

 

"Sounds like the perfect woman for you, Malfoy," I teased. "She can't complain that you talk about yourself too much."

 

"Touché, Potter. Touché."

 

"Oh, boys," Andromeda sighed. "This is so nice having us all get along. I'm glad you had fun with your friends, Draco. But—you know, Harry doesn't know anyone here. Perhaps next time you go out you can bring him with you. I'm sure your friends wouldn't mind if you brought along another handsome, charming bloke like yourself."

 

My eyes widened and I stared down at the table. "Oh, that's not necessary, Malfoy. I wouldn't want to impose."

 

You turned to me and smirked; it was that same familiar smirk that I had grown accustomed to after seeing it glued on your face so often, but this time there was no malice behind it.

 

"Not at all, Potter. That's a brilliant idea. Let's go out. It is Friday after all."

 

"Um—aren't you tired?"

 

"What? Oh, well a little." Your face was confused as if you hadn't considered the idea that you would be tired after spending all night partying and doing god knows what else.

 

"That's okay, though," you insisted. "I'm going to get some sleep. But Potter, be dressed and ready to go at ten."

 

You kissed Andie on the cheek and left the sitting room where we had all been gathered.

 

"And Potter," you called from the other room. "Wear something decent."

 

Bloody hell, what had I just agreed to do?

 

 

**To be continued...**

 

 

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**Author's note:** Thanks so much for reading, and I would love to hear your thoughts or questions. I apologize it took me so long to update, but I promise I'll be updating regularly now.

 

**[9]** The quote at the beginning of the chapter is by an unidentified author, so whomever it belongs to I'm sorry that I can't credit you for it. Instead, I gave the credit to Harry. He was feeling poetic during this chapter.

**[10]** This quote which most of you probably guessed correctly is by J.K. Rowling. It doesn't belong to me.

 

**Until next time,**  
 **~Icicle**   



	7. Part 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_

**Author:**  [](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/profile)[ **icicle33**](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/)  
 **Title:**  You Set Fire to the Rain  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Harry/Draco, past Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Andromeda and Teddy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other works that I refer to in this story. Please don’t sue me.  
 **Warnings:** **(** For this part only) Jealous!Harry, a slutty waitress, and lots of UST between the boys  
 **Word count:**   ~ 3000  (for this part)     
 **Summary:**   After the war, Harry cannot handle the overbearing press and needs to get away. He decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up too, things get complicated.  _“Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”_  
 **A/N:**  A big thank you to my lovely betas: [](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/profile)[ **ashiiblack**](http://ashiiblack.livejournal.com/)  and [](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/profile)[ **erised_dreams**](http://erised-dreams.livejournal.com/).  You ladies are awesome. ♥

 

 

 

  


* * *

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
**: :Eleven: :**   


 

 

  
_"It's been weeks. So many weeks since I've wanted you. I know how you move, and how the sunlight makes a shadow on the curve of your cheek, and the shape of your ear. I'm dying. Right here, you're killing me."_ ~LK [11]

 

 

 

  
**: : :**   


 

 

  
At precisely 10.15 you showed up in my room, without knocking, of course, and lazily stood in the doorway with one arm propped up against the ledge, greeting me with a slight nod of the head.

 

You were stunning, posing there so casually as if you knew you were as gorgeous as a model but still too cool to care. You were wearing the tightest black denims that I had ever seen and a silk black and silver striped shirt that fit your lean torso like a glove, clinging snugly to your defined arm muscles and pectorals. You just oozed affluence and sex, so much so that I could barely refrain from licking my lips. Thrown over your shoulder was a handsome leather blazer, which was obviously made from very expensive leather. When you walked over and tossed it on the bed, I was able to peek at the label and saw that it was Hugo Boss. I couldn't help but smile at that. For someone who was so adamantly against Muggles for most of his life, you sure are obsessed with Muggle fashion.

 

You scrunched your nose at me and motioned at my outfit with distaste. "Potter, you aren't ready yet."

 

"Huh?"

 

"I told you to be ready at ten, you obviously forgot." You took a seat on my bed and brushed the imaginary lint off your trousers.

 

With a shy smile I said, "Oh, I am ready. Let's go."

 

  
You furrowed your forehead and scrunched your nose again. "Potter, you can't go dressed like that. We're going to a bar." You sounded positively scandalised.

 

  
"Why not?" I shrugged and sat next to you on the bed making sure to keep adequate distance between us. I didn't want to lose control and accidentally act on my urges to jump you. That would have been difficult to explain.

 

  
"I always dress like this when I go out in London. No one's ever complained before."

 

You sighed deeply and eyed my ensemble distastefully again. I didn't understand your problem with my outfit. It was the middle of June and dreadfully hot, so I was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and an over-sized polo shirt with a pair of my old trainers. I had even attempted to run a comb through my hair; I thought I looked nice and couldn't help but blush at your intense stare. I mean I could have worn the short shorts and old Gryffindor tee shirt I had been wearing earlier. This _was_ dressed up for me.

 

"Oh, Potter," you said, shaking your head. "You really are hopeless, move over."

 

You got up from the bed with a determined look set on your handsome face and starting rummaging through my wardrobe. Apparently, nothing in my wardrobe met your approval either.

 

"Hey," I protested. "I have some really nice robes in there. They were quite expensive...I'll have you know."

 

"I suppose," you said, shrugging one shoulder, "and they would be _acceptable_ if we were going to some lame ministry function in London, but we're in France now. The French are different, much more judgemental and fashionably inclined."

 

"Well, I don't really care, Malfoy. That's not me."

 

You raised your eyebrows and looked at me as if I had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Trust me, Potter. You might get away with whatever that is," you said motioning to my outfit, "in London but they won't even let you in the bars here...regardless, of what your name is. The French are very elitist and cultural."

 

I sighed. "The French sound like right wankers to me."

 

You waved your hands dramatically in the air and gave me that affronted look again, as if I had just said something entirely absurd.

 

"I'll pretend you didn't say that. The French are brilliant. They appreciate true class unlike the uptight Brits."

 

"Um—in case you've forgotten, you're British."

 

"Details, details, Potter. Now, wait here. I think I have something you can wear." You scurried out the door with a huge grin. "Just change into trousers for Merlin's sake. No one wants to see your pasty thighs."

 

I couldn't help but chuckle and quickly changed into a pair of my nicer jeans, hoping they would meet your approval.

 

A blond blur rushed back into the room and threw a silk green button down shirt at me. "Here, I think this should fit you, Potter. It's a little big on me; it's back from my unfortunate pudgy days."

 

I frowned at you and took the shirt anyway, trying not to be too embarrassed that I was changing in front of you. The shirt felt soft and luxurious against my skin and smelt of lavender. Unfortunately, the sleeves were much too long and the buttons barely fastened.

 

"Erm..."

 

"Well, that just won't do," you said frowning. You muttered an unfamiliar spell and instantly the shirt was resized; it now fit comfortably. "Well, I suppose it's not your fault you don't possess my delicate bone structure even if you are a shrimp. That'll just have to do."

 

"Hey—" I protested. "Did you just call me fat, Malfoy?"

 

You disregarded my question and pushed me towards the door. "Come on. If we don't hurry all the good birds will be taken by the time we get there."

 

 

 

 

**: : :**   


 

 

 

The bar, Le Petite Éclair, a ridiculous name I know, was small but charming. I had never noticed it before on any of my walks through town and almost wondered if it had appeared over night. From the outside, it looked like an abandoned coffee shop, but once inside, it was much larger than it appeared. There were two bars, one in the middle of the room, and another that I later learnt was downstairs. There was only one row of backless stools around the main bar and the rest of the room was lined with black tables and silver high-backed chairs. The whole place had a rather modern feel, which was strange for the historic town of Roquebrun. I suppose that was why you liked it there.

 

As soon as we entered, the hostess greeted you warmly. "Signore Malfoy," she said, "It's so nice to see you again."

 

"Draco please," you insisted as you returned her warm embrace and kissed her on both cheeks.

 

"Of course, Draco. Your favourite table has been reserved for you. Francesca will be right with you."

 

You smiled at her brightly and then dragged me through the crowded room. I couldn't help but blush at the contact and felt a surge of electricity rush to my spine.

 

"This is a nice place," I said as we sat down, trying to hide my blush.

 

"It's very popular with the locals. I've been coming here for years."

 

Before I could respond, a gorgeous woman made a beeline to our table. She had long, dark luscious curls and vivid green eyes that on closer inspection were much more turquoise than green. She smiled a dazzling smile at you, showing off her perfect white teeth, and wrapped you in a warm embrace. My stomach was tightening again. I really had to get over this irrational jealousy of mine; I couldn't keep getting upset every time someone else touched you.

 

"Ciao Bello," she said.

 

"Che sopressa! Purtroppo l'ultima volta che avevi visitato qui io non c'era."

 

You chuckled and looked the woman up and down appreciatively. "Cara Francesca," you said, your eyes shining and a big goofy grin plastered on your face. "Ascoltami. Tu sei il mioieri, il mio oggi. È il mio sempre, inquietudine. Tue sei come il vento che porta iviolini e le rose…Tu sei il mio sogno proibito."

 

I'm not sure what you said, but it must have been something incredibly charming or romantic because Francesca blushed deeply and rewarded you with an even brighter smile.

 

"Draco, smettila di parlare italiano, ti stai rendendo ridicolo."

 

"Oh, how you wound me," you retorted, now chuckling. "So Potter, what do you want this lovely lady to bring you?"

 

"Erm…I guess a butt-"

 

You put your hand on my shoulder and glared at me darkly. "Potter, if you think of finishing that sentence with the words butter or beer I will permanently hex 'Virgin' on your forehead in neon letters. We're men for Salazar's sake, not daft schoolboys."

 

"Right," I said, feeling precisely like an idiotic schoolboy. "I'll have what you're having then."

 

"Vorrei il solito." You turned to Francesa with that big smile still set upon your face. "Due...per favore."

 

As Francesca scurried away to fetch our order, I turned to you with what I was sure was a dumbfounded look.

 

"Erm...that wasn't French, right?"

  


 You rolled your eyes at me. "Good catch, Potter. Aren't you perceptive Oh-Chosen-One? It's Italian, obviously."

 

I chewed my bottom lip and tried hard not to back down from the intensity of your gaze. God, how I hated looking dumb in front of you. It happened much too often for my liking.

 

"Uh-I didn't know you spoke Italian."

 

"I'm a Malfoy," you said with a smirk. "We speak all the _romance_ languages. And Swiss-German. Plus, I know all the dirty words in Russian, Polish, Swedish, and Japanese. I think that's it." You counted off the languages on your fingers looking very impressed with yourself.

  


"Oh. Well, I—"

 

"Yes, I know, Potter. You're still working on mastering the English language. But it's not your fault you grew up without culture."

 

I started to protest, but then Francesca returned with our drinks. She set them down in front of us and leaned over much more than necessary, making sure to parade her ample cleavage in front of you. I felt my blood start to seethe again.

 

"Molte grazie, amore mio." You reached out to kiss Francesca's hand. She blushed profusely, and I had to control my rage—if not, the glass in my hand was going to shatter.

 

"Yeah, thanks. I mean gracias...um...no...grazi?"

  


My cheeks were on fire and I hid my face in my arms. I really had to stop making such an idiot of myself.

 

You were shaking with laughter beside me, but then Francesca put a soft hand on top of mine and said, "You're very welcome. Your friend Draco is an arse," in perfect English that had only the smallest trace of an Italian accent before walking away. Fuck me.

  


"Oh, your face, Potter," you teased, still shaking with laughter. "Too priceless."

 

"I hate you."

  


You finally stopped laughing and raised your glass to me in a toast. "It's all in good fun. You can get me back next time. Cheers."

  


Before I met you, I didn't drink often, and when I did, I only drank lager or ale. I rarely drank hard spirits or firewhisky, so it was quite a challenge to swallow the scotch and soda that you had ordered for us. I was proud of myself that I didn't sputter when I took a long sip, but after a couple of gulps, you had already downed yours. Not wanting to look even more foolish, I gulped the rest of my drink with what I hoped wasn't too sour of a face.

  


"So," I said, trying to break the awkward silence between us. "Why is this place run by Italians if it has a French name?"

  


You raised your eyebrows at me but didn't roll your eyes this time. "Well, Roquebrun has been mostly a wizarding community for years now, Potter. Most of the wizarding folk live up by Andromeda in Ceps, so as not to attract any attention from the small Muggle population that resides here."

  


"Oh. I didn't realise," I said, already feeling the scotch burning in my stomach. This was going to be a very bad night if I kept chugging drinks. I probably should have noticed that this was a wizarding establishment anyway; even if the clientele was dressed in fashionable Muggle clothing, there was a large enchanted mural of a knight slaying a dragon on the ceiling. Figures.

  


"Yes," you continued matter-of-factly. "Francesca and her family have owned this place for years. They spend the year in Italy and the summer here."

  


"That's nice."

  


"I suppose. But I think it's time for another drink."

  


This time, Francesca brought us a double shot of the bar's finest and oldest scotch. I gulped and took a deep breath before bringing the unfamiliar liquid to my lips. It didn't smell so bad; in fact, it smelt quite pleasant. I wasn't used to taking shots, so I hoped not to muck it up.

 

"To a new beginning," I said as I brought the amber liquid to my lips and took a long gulp. Luckily, I was able to swallow half of the glass without spitting up. Sitting there, I felt like an infant. While you gulped the scotch in one go as if it were no harder than drinking pumpkin juice, I sipped at mine as if it were a nauseating medicine. Ugh. Why do people willingly drink this shit?

  


"Come on, Potter. Don't cradle the scotch, just drink it. It's time for another round."

  


"Oi. Sure, Malfoy."

  


Tilting my head back, I attempted to drink the rest of the scotch casually just as I had seen you do so easily, but this time I failed miserably. I couldn't keep it down and spat the drink all over the table, including on you. My eyes widened and I was absolutely horrified. I thought that you were going to hex me right on the spot, but instead you just started laughing. Hysterically.

  


"Hell, Potter. We really need to work on your appreciation for fine liquor and tolerance. That's a 40 galleon bottle of scotch you just spit out."

  


"I'm sorry," I said, wishing I could hide underneath the table and never come out. "I just don't drink hard alcohol much."

  


You laughed again—that absurd but infectious laugh that I was starting to get addicted to—and then asked Francesca to bring you another scotch and soda and a pint of Guinness for me. I was embarrassed, but thankful that I didn't have to drink any more of that revolting scotch.

 

 

  
**: : :**   


 

 

After a few more drinks, my mood started to brighten. We sat there for what felt like hours talking about routine things like Quidditch and Muggle literature. I was impressed to learn that several famous Muggle authors, such as Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde, were actually just wizards posing as Muggles in order to become appreciated. It was really quite astounding how much you knew about a variety of topics, including wine and art history. The bar was full, filled to capacity actually, but it was as if we were the only two people in the entire bar—perhaps even in the entire world. It was a truly magical evening, and I never wanted it to end.

 

You kept smiling at me and prattling on about all your interests, and even though I was more quiet than usual, I didn't mind because I could have sat there staring at you adoringly and letting you talk for hours. It was as if we were old friends and something I could get used to; I felt pathetic, silly really, for avoiding you for so long. This wasn't hard at all. It was quite easy and Merlin it felt _spectacular_.

 

The only damper on the evening was that Francesca kept flirting with you shamelessly. She was practically throwing herself at you. It just didn't seem right that they would let girls like _that_ work at the bar; it was beyond indecent, and I wished I could have hexed those long eyelashes right off her pretty face.

 

That cow had some nerve. When we were finally getting ready to leave, she sat down in your lap and announced loudly enough for half the bar to hear that she would be getting off at three and had no special plans for the night. It really took all of my self-restraint not to lunge on her right on the spot. Luckily, you just removed her arms from your neck and told her that you were going to have take a rain check. She was obviously disappointed, and I couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear the entire walk home, which was long but necessary considering that we were much too pissed to Apparate.

 

"Thanks for tonight, Malfoy," I said as we finally made it back to Andromeda's around half past four in the morning. "I really had a good time."

 

You smiled at me again that beautiful and radiating smile that would haunt my dreams all night and said, "Surprisingly, I did too. Get some sleep, Potter. You're positively sloshed."

  


 

**To be continued...**

 

* * *

  
**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading and I'd love to know what you thought of Harry and Draco's little impromptu date. = D

  


 

  
[11] The quote at the beginning of the chapter is by Laura Kinsale and comes from the _Prince of Midnight._

  
  
**~Icicle**   


 

* * *

  


**Italian translations below for those who are interested:**

  
Ciao Bello. Che sopressa! Purtroppo l'ultima volta che avevi visitato qui io non c'era.  
~Hello gorgeous/handsome. What a surprise? Sadly, last time you were here/visited I wasn't here/available/in.

  
Cara Francesca,ascoltami. Tu sei il mio ieri, il mio oggi. È il mio sempre, inquietudine. Tue sei come il vento cheporta i violini e le rose…Tu sei il mio sogno proibito.  
~This is actually from a beautiful Italian song called "Parole, parole" by Mina, which is why Francesca laughs at Draco and then tells him to stop embarrassing himself. It roughly translates:  
My dear Francesca, listen to me. You are my yesterday, my today. You are mine always, my restlessness. You are like the wind that brings/moves the violins and the roses. You are my forbidden dream.

  
Vorrei il solito. Due per favore.  
~I'll take/Bring me my usual. Two please.  


 


	8. Parts 12-13

**: :Twelve: :**

_"This isn't a crush, it's an obsession. You are never not in my thoughts. Your scent carries across a room and paralyzes me with longing. I don't want to hold your hand. Part of me wants to set you on fire and hold you while the flame consumes us both, to eat your heart, so I know that only I possess it entirely."_ ~GH [12]

**: : :**

The next morning, I woke up surprisingly early considering I had stayed up so late the previous night. I was in desperate need of a hangover potion but was too embarrassed to ask Andie for one. Secretly, I was hoping that you were already awake and would have a stash of them. As I walked over to your room, I noticed that your door had been left slightly ajar again; for some reason, you never seemed to close doors properly. I chuckled to myself at yet another one of your endearing idiosyncrasies; however, when I pushed open your door, the room was empty. Your bed was perfectly made, and even though I know that you are a fastidious neat freak, I could tell that the elegant bed hadn't been slept in.

 

Bugger. Was I really that much of an idiot that I didn't notice you sneak out last night? We had gotten home at almost five am—where the hell could you have gone?

 

The answer was obvious, but I didn't want to face the fact that you had gone back out to meet up with that  _skanky_  waitress. At least you had the decency to make sure I got home okay first. That counted for something, right? I tried not to picture you and the evil Francesca—who wasn't even that attractive—I mean, if you aren't into the tall, fit, model type.

 

I made my way into the dining room, hoping to distract myself with Teddy and Andromeda and trying my best to put a smile on my face. If there was one thing I learnt early that summer, it was how to lie through my teeth and put a fake smile upon my face. Actually, they were essential life skills that  _you_  probably learnt your first day in Slytherin, and I could barely perfect so many years later. Yes, I'm kind of sad and dismal. No wonder you went home with Francesca instead of me.

 

While sitting around the breakfast table, Andromeda kept asking about the previous night, and I tried my best not to show my disappointment that you were nowhere to be found. Luckily, after her fifth intrusive question, you came in scrambling through the door. Your hair was tousled and hanging in loose tendrils around your rosy cheeks; apparently, it was a cool morning, which was quite odd for the warm month of June. You were wearing a long grey trench coat over a pair of black trousers, which I assumed to be the same ones you were wearing last night, but then again, you seemed to have an infinite supply of tight black trousers, so I couldn't be sure. In your arms was a small tray of four hot beverages and a large paper bag.

 

"Bonjour my beautiful family," you said, as you put the treats down on the table and kissed Andromeda on the cheek.

 

"And Potter," you finished cheekily, your eyes lighting up.

 

"Hi," I said sheepishly afraid to meet your eyes; it was obvious why you were in such a good mood, and I didn't want to think about it. At all.

 

"Well, my darling family," you continued in that grandiose manner you have when you are in a good mood, "I love you all so deeply that I have brought you a  _real_  French breakfast." You gestured to the bag and beverages. "Freshly made croissants and the finest café au lait."

 

You passed out the beverages and croissants, and I quietly thanked you, still avoiding your pointed stare.

 

I took a sip of my beverage and was surprised when my mouth filled with a delicious, rich chocolate rather than the coffee I was expecting.

 

"This doesn't taste like I coffee," I said finally meeting your gaze.

 

"It's not." You raised your eyebrows at me. "I got you and Teddybear hot chocolate instead."

 

"Oh."

 

"I just figured that your  _uncouth_  British taste buds were not used to fine coffee, so it would be safer to bring you chocolate. I've seen you stuffing your face with chocolate for years."

 

Teddy seemed to think that was hilarious and dribbled hot chocolate down his chin, and even Andromeda grinned at your little joke.

 

"I like coffee," I cried, attempting to defend myself.

 

You just continued to raise your eyebrows at me and didn't look convinced.

 

"Well," I admitted after another large sip, "it is  _quite_  good."

 

"It's the best!" Teddy chimed in and then everyone laughed even me.

 

"So, Potter," you said casually, while you slowly sipped your coffee and ignored the croissant Andromeda had placed in front of you. "I would like to take my dear Auntie shopping today. I was wondering if you would watch Teddybear here?"

 

You beamed at me, your eyes bright and clear. There was no way that I could deny you anything when you looked at me like that.  _You bastard._

 

"Of course."

 

"Thank you, Harry," Andromeda said also beaming at me. "It's very kind of you, and I know you don't like shopping."

 

"Yeah, not so much," I said with a mouth full of croissant. I looked down at my empty plate and reached for another croissant. Lately, every time I was embarrassed or uncomfortable at the table, I would just reach for more food. I really needed to stop or by the end of the summer, this nervous habit was going to take a toll on my waistline.

**: : :**

 

 

I was a fool to think that things had changed between us after that night in the bar. Other than the quick glimpses I got of you at meal times, you were never around. You would stay out all night and every time I peeked into your room, your bed looked unslept in again. Still, without fail you would show up with an array of French pastries in the morning, which of course you never seemed to touch and I would eat too many of instead; then you would disappear for the rest of the day. It just didn't make any sense. It was as if you never slept  _at all_ , which wasn't possible.

 

Once again, you were driving me insane.

 

After about a week of this nonsense, I decided to revert to my usual habits and spy on you. I waited just inside my door, spying through a small peephole I had made. When I finally saw you in the hallway at about a quarter past seven, I purposely bumped into you.

 

"Sorry Malfoy," I said trying my best to act casual. "I didn't see you there."

 

"Quite alright, Potter. Good morning to you."

 

"Yeah, you too."

 

You were dressed in a black sleeveless top and the tightest red running shorts that I had ever seen; there was no way in hell that they could have been comfortable. Your hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and held back by a green bandanna. You looked completely ludicrous and adorable at the same time.

 

"Potter, I'm going for my morning run. Do you care to join me?"

 

"Um, okay—just let me change."

 

"You have two minutes." You bent over to tie the laces of your matching red trainers. I couldn't help but ogle your delicious arse and had to run into my room before I got too excited.

**: : :**

 

 

For some idiotic reason, I thought that I could keep up with you. I was used to running with the Aurors, even if I hadn't run at all or done much of any exercise in the last couple of months, but that still didn't prepare me for a  _Malfoy_  run.

 

You run just as you do everything in life with a pure determination and a fierce speed. We ran down by the beautiful Orb River, but instead of the scenic jog I thought we were going to take—taking in the stunning scenery and getting some fresh air in our lungs—you took off like a bullet.

 

You had a huge smile on your face and yelled, "Bet you can't catch me, Potter!"

 

You left me in a daze.

 

To say that you were fast would be an understatement. All I could say, is that thank Merlin Quidditch was played on broomsticks because if it had been played on foot, you would have wiped the pitch with me every single time. I always thought you were a graceful flier, but seeing you run was a true spectacle of beauty. You were a golden blur, your long hair reflecting shades of gold, yellow, and silver in the sun, and your pale complexion grew pink as you pushed yourself harder. It was such a beautiful sight that I almost forgot to chase after you. Almost. But not quite.

 

Foolishly, I thought it would be a breeze to catch you, but considering I hadn't slept much the night before and had been eating too much crap lately, I felt incredibly sluggish and out of breath. You ran as if someone was chasing you no matter how far in front of me you pulled, and by the time I finally reached you, you had been stretching and cooling down for several minutes.

 

"Merlin, Potter," you said, while removing your bandanna and adjusting your small ponytail, "if you always run like that, it's better that they kicked you out of the Aurors."

 

I put my hands on my sides and bent over trying to catch my breath.

 

"They didn't kick me out, Malfoy. I just decided to take a break."

 

"Yeah,  _indefinitely_."

 

"No, I mean yes." I sighed loudly and tried to flatten my hair. "Actually, I don't really know."

 

"Well, if you are planning on going back, then I would be more cautious about what you put into that big fat mouth of yours, Potter." You smirked at me and rolled your eyes. "You're like an endless pit. If I ate like that, I'd be as big as a house."

 

I blushed heavily and pretended that I needed to tie my trainers. That wasn't the first time you had criticised my eating habits, and it wasn't fair really. I didn't criticise your strange eating habits, or the fact that you never slept and drank like a fish. Sometimes, I really hated you. You always knew how to make a bloke feel like shit.

 

When we got back to Andromeda's, you carefully took off your trainers and stripped your shirt right in the hallway. I couldn't help but stare at your pale, firm chest. Your shoulders were actually broader than I had imagined, or perhaps they just appeared that way because your waist was so slight; your stomach was lightly muscled and your nipples stood erect in the air, a beautiful and tender pink. Most people would say that you were on the skinny side, scrawny even, but to me, you were absolutely beautiful.

 

I just stood there ogling you and feeling embarrassed about my own body that was nowhere near as perfect as yours.

 

"Er-"

 

"Well, I'm off for a shower and then bed. I haven't slept all night," you said with that endearing grin again spread across your face. "Good run, Potter." You slapped my back as you walked by me. Thank Merlin you were gone because I instantly had a stiffy and needed to go release myself.

 

Even though you had embarrassed me on our run, at least I solved one mystery. Apparently, you were nocturnal, so you stayed out all night and then slept after your morning run. God, you are a strange bloke.

 

But that just made me want you even more.

**: : :**

 

 

That day, I wanked off three different times to images of you running and then images of you shirtless and slapping my back. I felt like a twelve-year-old schoolboy again; although, I don't recall doing much wanking when I was twelve. I was more concerned about the evil Dark Lord that was trying to kill me.

 

After a delicious dinner, which I ate too much of once again and which you were notably absent from, I decided to take a page out of your book and take a nap. I woke up a little after ten and decided that I would go find a book in the library to read since I was bored and Andromeda didn't have a Muggle television set. When I came back to my room, you were sitting on my bed dressed in another 'going out' outfit and sipping a glass of red wine.

 

"You're late, Potter," you said, curling your upper lip disdainfully like you used to do when we were younger. Now that I knew you better, that sneer didn't quite have the same effect on me—instead, I found it amusing.

 

"Huh?" I replied, running a hand through my hair and thanking Merlin that I had decided to put on a pair of trousers and tee shirt before heading to the library.

 

"It's Friday night," you drawled. "We're going out."

 

"Alright. I didn't realise we had made plans."

 

You looked at me as though I was the stupidest person in the world and only said, "It's Friday night."

 

"So?"

 

"We're young, handsome, rich, and available. Why wouldn't we go out on Friday night?" you asked, shaking your head at me.

 

"Fine," I said resignedly, "just let me get changed."

 

"Oh no." You chugged the rest of your wine and vanished the glass, probably to the sink. "We're meeting  _women_  tonight, Potter. Two very beautiful women—and you cannot show up in any of those sorry excuses for clothing you own. I vouched for you. Do not embarrass me."

 

You had a determined look in your eyes, so I knew better than to argue.

 

"Just nothing too hot," I told you, sighing heavily.

 

"Merlin, Potter. Are you not a wizard? Cooling charms, you berk." You shook your head at me again. "You know, sometimes, I feel like I'm dealing with Crabbe and Goyle again. Salazar help me."

 

God, you are always so dramatic.

**: :Thirteen: :**

  
_"How easy I was. Like a limpet, I attached myself to anything, anyone who showed me the least bit of attention."_ ~JF [13]

**: : :**

When we got to the bar, the same bar we had gone to last time, I was already sweating through my shirt or rather your shirt.

 

Even with the Cooling Charm I had placed on it, I still felt like I was drowning in a pool of my own sweat. Besides, I felt utterly ridiculous in the outfit you had picked out for me. While you looked stunning in your sheer silver shirt, Gucci, of course, and low rise denims, I just looked like your fat friend. Okay, I knew I wasn't actually  _fat_ , but you had started to get me paranoid about my weight with all your comments about my unhealthy eating habits. It didn't help that you had to expand another one of your shirts just to fit me properly. This one didn't even button before you enlarged it.

 

As we walked into bar, everyone was staring at us. I desperately hoped that it was because you looked like a walking wet dream in your outfit and not because I looked absurd in that purple shirt you had forced me to wear.

 

Yes, purple! Supposedly, the shirt was part of the Atelier Versace Collection, whatever the hell that means, and incredibly expensive. Well, Versace or not, I just found it ugly. It was a light purple with paisley prints in complementing shades of red, darker purple, and white. I felt like a walking floral garden and wanted nothing more than to drown myself in the toilet or at least in a couple of pints.

 

You had assured me that I looked fantastic and that the girls would be impressed with my impeccable fashion sense, but secretly I thought you were lying to me, just wanting to keep all attention on you.

 

As we sat down at the same table we had been seated the last time, although now it had been magically expanded, I noticed that there were already two beautiful girls sitting at our table. You had not been lying when you said they were quite fit, and even though I might not want to shag them, I could still appreciate their natural beauty.

 

One of the girls was a redhead with dark red hair that was so deep in colour it resembled the plum coloured wine she held inbetween her fingers. She had a pale complexion that was almost as pale as yours and bright blue eyes. I smiled at her fiercely when I noticed that her skin was freckle free. Even after all these years, you still hated freckles. The other girl was just as beautiful if not more so than her friend, but they couldn't have been more opposite. She had dark tanned skin that appeared golden under the low candlelight of the bar and short black hair, which was dark and almost as messy as mine was; hers, however, was intentionally messy and was supposed to be that sexy, just shagged look. Mine, was just a mop no matter what I did to it.

 

I tried my best to smile at the two ladies in that charming manner I had seen you do so often, but I'm sure I was nowhere near as successful, especially in that hideous purple shirt.

 

"Hello, ladies," I said, trying to keep my voice deep and casual, perhaps even cool. I grabbed the redhead's hand and brought it to my lips. "I'm Harry and it's a pleasure to meet you,  _my dear_." Then I did the same with the dark haired girl. They both blushed at my warm smile and charm, particularly the redhead to whom I took a seat directly across from.

 

You seemed somewhat impressed when you took a seat next to me and across from the brunette, whose name was Iris or Ivy or some other ridiculous flower name, and her friend Myrtle. Yes, you heard me correctly, Myrtle. Of course, you gave me _Myrtle_  and swooned in on Iris or Ingrid or whatever her name was immediately.

 

After a few minutes of barely stomaching your shameless flirting with Ivy as I decided I was going to call the offensive creature—yes,  _Poison Ivy_ —I called out loudly that I needed a drink.

 

Finally, you peeled your gaze away from Poison Ivy and smiled at me.

 

"Brilliant idea, Potter. There's the waitress. You order first."

 

Of course, you had to put me on the spot and make me look bad like you always do. I knew that I couldn't order a scotch or whisky because it would probably end up all over the table again. And I had no idea what wine to order, so I just smiled sheepishly at the waitress (thank Merlin it wasn't Francesca) and ordered a pint.

 

You laughed and made a joke about my manly drink that the girls thought was hilarious, and then ordered a bottle of Bordeaux wine and a bottle of Champagne for the table. I glared at you furiously and really wanted to smack you upside the head.

 

As we quickly went through bottles of wine and expensive Champagne, I was starting to feel a little more relaxed but dreadfully bored. You were being your magnificent, charming self, or at least the alluring version of yourself that you pretended to be when you had a few too many drinks. I couldn't help but stare at you like a besotted schoolgirl. But you ignored me almost the entire night. Your cheeks were flushing red and your eyes wide and dazed. I had never seen you that pissed before and was starting to worry.

 

"Malfoy," I said loudly, trying to break your attention away from Poison Ivy, who was now leaning on your shoulder—that  _cheap slag_.

 

"Where are your manners? We've gotten these lovely ladies positively intoxicated...but haven't offered them anything to eat. Perhaps they want something to nibble on?"

 

I smirked at you and nodded at Myrtle hoping that she would understand my point.

 

"Oh," you said, frowning your forehead and looking like you were thinking much too hard, "I did skip dinner today, so I am a bit peckish."

 

You turned to the evil  _She Demon_  and asked her what she wanted; naturally, she said she was quite satisfied with the wine and not hungry for any food. I had to bite my tongue not to lash out on her; she didn't look like the type of girl that ate much anyway, and I started to dislike her even more. Luckily, Myrtle came to the rescue and said that she could go for a light snack.

 

You turned to me with your eyes still shining much too brightly and a pouted bottom lip. "So, Potter, you do the honours then. What should we have?"

 

"Some chips would be nice," I said evenly, knowing that you would probably deny my request, but greasy chips were just what you needed in your state of obvious intoxication.

 

You laughed at me, an almost chortle, and patted me on the back.

 

"You  _would_  want chips, Potter." You scoffed, but then turned and smiled at me, looking much too amused. You told the waitress to bring us a large order of chips and malt vinegar because your friend, Potter, couldn't handle the elegant cuisine of pomme frites and mayo. All the girls, including the waitress, started laughing hysterically at your little joke that I didn't find funny in the least. The only reason I grinned back was because you had called me your friend, causing a warm sensation to spread across my chest. It might have been because you finally regarded me as a friend after all those years as bitter enemies, or it might have been the alcohol catching up with me, but either way, I was happier than I had been in a long time.

 

When the chips came, I was pleased to see that you actually nibbled on a couple of them, rather than just shuffling them around your plate as you usually did. The chips were quite delicious, but unfortunately, most of them wound up on the floor. You must always leave the staff a stellar tip because I couldn't believe we didn't get kicked out after the mess you made—okay, that we made.

 

After eating only a handful of chips, you started throwing them; first at that bitch Ivy, but since she complained and was obviously no fun, you aimed them at me instead. I pretended to protest too, but your eyes were gleaming so mischievously and carefree that you looked like a little boy again wrapped up in the everyday joy of life's little things.

 

There was no way that I was going to deny you this pleasure, especially since you had such a horrid summer before these last few weeks. Instead, I joined in and started chucking the chips back at you. Either your seeker reflexes were out of practise, or you really were that sloshed, because you had an immense difficulty in avoiding the chips I threw. In fact, most of them wound up hitting you square in the head. Honestly, it was one of the funniest things I had ever seen, so I didn't even care that I smelt like malt vinegar for the next couple of days. Seeing that delightful smile on your face was worth it.

 

Besides, you had appalling aim and missed me quite frequently, so finally, I just started opening up my mouth and attempting to catch the chips you flung at me. Myrtle found this hilarious and was cheering us on, but of course, the  _She Demon_  did not. She moved over to the far end of the table and just sat there, with her arms crossed against what was obviously a botched boob job, glaring at our stupidity and childish antics.

 

Luckily, you were too far gone to notice her outrage, so you kept flashing her a radiant smile every time you managed to hit me with a chip.

 

"You know…Pott-potter," you mumbled after watching me catch three chips in a row in my mouth, "yur goin' to turn into a chip."

 

You were slurring your words now, and I should have been alarmed or offended rather than endeared by your cuteness.

 

"Another round?" Myrtle asked, lifting her empty glass until I turned around and glared at her.

 

"No!" I protested. "He's had enough. I mean, we've all had enough. It's last call soon anyway."

 

"Right," Myrtle said, her pale cheeks flushing. I hadn't meant to snap at her like that, but there was no way I could allow you to drink anymore, especially if I didn't want to have to carry you home. I tried to appease her with a smile, but then the  _She Demon_  had to go and ruin everything again.

 

"I need a cigarette," she said scowling. "Now!" She got up from the table and started pulling on your arm. "Dray-co," she whinged, "come with me."

 

I glared at her furiously and turned to you, noticing that you were having trouble standing.

 

"Malfoy...I didn't know you smoked."

 

"Potter," you said, leaning over much too close to me, "we're in France. Everyone smokes in France!" You chuckled at my absurd comment, and I couldn't help but smile back. Even when you were completely plastered, you still managed to make me feel like an idiot.

**: : :**

 

 

You and Poison Ivy were gone for much too long, and I was starting to worry. What if something had happened to you? What if you had passed out? Or worse yet, what if you and  _that creature_  were doing something far, far worse?

 

I felt quite badly for poor Myrtle, who had been stuck with me on this dreadful double date. I hoped that she didn't think she had a chance with me. But at the same time, she was a nice enough girl, polite and sweet, unlike her cow of a friend—so I tried to indulge her in polite conversation. That lasted all of ten minutes before I was beyond agitated and needed to find you.

 

"Harry," she said with a soft smile, resting her hand on top of mine. It was so small and delicate with bright pink nails—that it just felt wrong. No, it was nothing like that time I had laced  _our_  hands together.

 

"Harry," she said again, since I had ignored her the first time, "I'm sure they're fine. Iris will take care of Draco."

 

I protested vehemently explaining that you were plastered out of your mind, and I was more than a little concerned for both of you.  _Yeah right_. She sighed and finally agreed that I should go check on the two of you.

**: : :**

 

 

What I found outside made the monster inside my chest, whom I had been getting better at controlling, finally snap.  _Fucking Ivy_  had you pinned up against a wall and was molesting you. She had her tongue down your throat, your expensive shirt half open, and worst of all, her filthy hands wrapped in your beautiful hair. Once I heard you whimper, that was the final straw. I stormed over there and cleared my throat loudly behind the two of you.

 

"Excuse me."

 

You pushed Ivy away and turned to greet me with a wide smile.

 

"Oi, it's Potter. Hi Potter!"

 

Clearly, you weren't embarrassed to be caught in such an intimate position, and I decided to blame that on the alcohol and not read in deeper to your exhibitionist tendencies.

 

"If you don't mind, Potter," the  _She Devil_  said darkly, "we're kind of busy here."

 

"Sorry," I said, in what I hoped was a bored tone. "Myrtle needs you right away. She said something about a Makeup Charm."

 

The  _She Devil_  glared at me and then attempted to adjust her clothing.

 

"Fine. I suppose I could do with some freshening up as well."

 

She turned to you again and wrapped you in a disgusting kiss, trying to claim her possession on you. "Drakey, don't worry, I'll be right back." She stormed off strutting her too small arse and wide hips as she walked. I couldn't help but smirk when she tripped and almost lost one of her heels. I wonder if I subconsciously sent a Tripping Jinx her way.

 

When I turned back to you, I was surprised that you were in the process of lighting a cigarette rather than watching the  _She Devil_  walk away.

 

I had always thought that smoking was a particularly disgusting habit; I had only indulged in a cigarette a couple of times in my life, and the only people I knew that had smoked while growing up were Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Certainly, I didn't equate anything favourable with them, so it wasn't a surprise that I disliked smoking. Watching  _you_  though, dragging on that cigarette with your pouty lips and silver eyes, I completely changed my mind. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen—an ethereal being wrapped in a cloud of smoke, and I was completely intoxicated.

 

"Malfoy," I croaked out, trying to hide the desire in my voice, "can I bum a fag?"

 

Flipping your fringe out of your face, you turned and smiled at me again. God, you really had to stop doing that.

 

"Sorry," you said, "this is my last one."

 

"That's okay."

 

You leaned in closer to me, our faces only inches apart, and I almost forgot to breathe.

 

"We can share mine," you insisted. I reached out to grab the cigarette from your hand, but you slapped it away.

 

"I know you, Potter. You're clumsy—and I can't have you wasting my last cigarette. Let me do it."

 

You leaned in even closer and brought the cigarette to my lips. I almost forgot to inhale as I saw your silver eyes so close to mine and glowing in the faint lamplight. You were such a sight with your half-buttoned shirt, mussed hair, and swollen lips. Thank Merlin, I had decided to wear a pair of my looser trousers that day, or I would have been embarrassed.

 

I couldn't say a word. I was completely mute, but we shared the rest of the cigarette—and each time you brought the small stick to my lips, I had to refrain myself from grabbing your face and kissing you deeply. As we stood there, leaning against the brick wall behind us and gazing into each other's eyes, I could have sworn that I saw a deep yearn and desire in your eyes as well. They were flashing at me and your bottom lip was just begging to be kissed.

 

You leaned in closer, barely an inch from my lips. "Damn,  _too bad_  the cigarette is done."

 

I wanted to kiss you then, ravage you so desperately, so deeply, but of course, I was too much of a coward and didn't.

 

Instead, I said, "Yeah, we should probably get back inside. Our dates are missing us."

 

You whirled away from me, making sure to put a much needed distance between us.

 

" _Fine._  Let's go."

 

As I stared into your eyes one last time, I noticed that they were sad, no longer shining as brightly as before. I could have kicked myself. No, I should have kicked myself.

 

God, I'm such an idiot. A real fucking idiot.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading. More updates will be coming soon.   The quotes don't belong to me if you didn't realise that already.

 

[12] Quote by Gwen Hayes

[13] Quote by Janet Finch from _White Oleander_


	9. Parts 14-15

**: :Fourteen : :**

 

 

_"When I see you the world stops. It stops and all that exists for me is you and my eyes staring at you. There's nothing else. No noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries, no yesterday, no tomorrow. The world just stops and it is a beautiful place and there is only you. Just you, and my eyes staring at you. I stared."_ ~JF [15]

**: : :**

After that night and the  _almost_  kiss, things changed between us again but not for the better.

 

Once we headed back into the bar, you barely acknowledged me and took off with Poison Ivy, leaving me all alone with Myrtle. I felt like such a total prat that night since I used poor Myrtle. I grabbed her, slammed her against the wall, and proceeded to snog the living daylights out of her. Unfortunately, I felt nothing, only a slight queasiness in my stomach; the only thing I gained from that experience was that my cock that had been painfully hard after sharing that cigarette with you was now flaccid. I felt awful leading the poor girl on and made an excuse that I didn't feel well, leaving her alone at the bar—probably confused and wondering if she had done something wrong. Fuck. I told myself that if I ever see her again, I would apologise and explain my actions. She had been such a sweet girl and didn't deserve to be treated like that. As if she meant nothing.

 

The next few weeks passed in a blur, and I barely saw you. You were skipping meals more often now, and I was growing increasingly concerned about the sharpness of your cheekbones and the dark circles under your eyes. Still, since we barely spoke other than the polite conversation we exchanged in Andromeda and Teddy's company, it wasn't my place to say anything. I didn't understand how Andie didn't notice, or if she did, she also felt that it wasn't her place to upset you. I wanted to talk to you, plead with you, and explain that I had never meant to make you feel uncomfortable — that we both had too much to drink that night. But every time I got close to you, my throat would close up and all I could do was stare and long. Something, I was getting far too familiar with, and even  _you_ , were not your usual cheerful self. You weren't playing with Teddy as often and were spending an enormous amount of time locked up in the library. Things needed to change between us before they took a turn for the worst.

 

Finally, I decided that I was being daft and need to grow some bollocks. I walked over to the far library and knocked on the door. The door opened quickly and two small hands pulled me and dragged me to the floor. Teddy looked up at me, his face completely awestruck and in full on worship mode; he held his little fingers up to his lips, shushing me to be quiet. At first, I thought this was another one of Teddy's games, but then I realised that you were in the far corner of the room, back facing us and sitting on an elegant, wooden piano bench. You were bent over, eyes closed deep in concentration, and your long fingers were dancing over the smooth piano keys in obvious dexterity. The piano you were sitting at was a fixture of beauty, a stunning baby grand, chestnut in colour, flawlessly polished and undoubtedly expensive. Yet, the piano wasn't what I was fixated on. You were sitting there, so lost in the moment, as if your mind were somewhere else, and your agile fingers were a vessel composing transfixing, majestic music that filled the entire room.

 

"Wow," I said to Teddy, not even realising that I had opened my mouth.

 

"I know," he whispered, "Cousin Draco is brilliant." I nodded in agreement and continued to stare, utterly bewitched by your melody.

 

Finally, the music stopped and you swung your long legs around the piano bench and noticed me.

 

"Oh, Potter. I didn't realise I had an audience." Then you eyed Teddy hiding behind the couch. "And Cousin Teddy too." You smiled at the little boy and motioned for him to join you on the bench.

 

"Teddybear," you said, in your softest voice that I never heard you use with anyone else. "I've told you that you don't have to hide when I play. You can watch me any time you want."

 

Teddy bit his lip and looked up at you through his fringe that was starting to get longer and resembled your hair greatly.

 

"I'm sorry, Cousin," he said pouting, his large eyes watering. "I just didn't want to bother you."

 

"You're never a bother little man. But I think it's time for your nap."

 

He hung his head resignedly, but nodded anyway.

 

"What were you playing?" I asked, finally finding my voice. "It was beautiful."

 

You blushed faintly and chewed on your bottom lip, as you always did when you were nervous or embarrassed.

 

"Thank you. It's Brahms." You had a huge smile on your face, your eyes bright and wistful. "One of his Rhapsodies, Opus 70 in G minor."

 

I had no idea what any of those words meant, so I just smiled and nodded, pretending that I knew  _all_  about classical music.  "I thought so," I said. "You're very talented. I didn't know you played."

 

"Yes, well. I had a great deal of energy as a child." You frowned and chewed your lip again. "I was always running around the manor terrorising the house-elves and peacocks. It drove Father absolutely mental, so Mother suggested I take up a hobby to keep me occupied."

 

"Oh."

 

"Yes, we had a beautiful piano in Mother's wing that she used to play. That's where I learnt." You explained, looking as if you were a million miles away, lost in another time.

 

"So your mother taught you then?" I asked, trying to encourage you to keep talking rather than withdrawing from me again. After all, this was the longest conversation we've had since that night at the bar.

 

"Well, no," you replied with a heavy sigh. "Sometimes, we would practice together, but Father insisted that a  _professional_ teach me. Mother wasn't allowed." You paused and looked pensive for a moment. "She wasn't allowed near me very much at all when I was a child.

 

"Oh," I said again, feeling dreadfully stupid that I couldn't come up with anything more comforting to say.

 

"Well, I'm going to put Teddy down for his nap." You motioned at the little boy who without us noticing had curled up on the couch and fallen sound asleep.

 

"Okay," I said, but as you walked towards the door, carrying my darling little godson so gently but protectively, I knew I had to stop you.

 

"Wait—"

 

You turned around and faced me, raising one eyebrow as if to say I'm waiting Potter.

 

"Let's do something," I blurted out. "Just the two of us. We haven't hung out in a while and I'm—"

 

"You're bored."

 

"Yeah."

 

"Alright, then. Be ready to go in ten minutes and wear something comfortable."

**: : :**

 

 

I was more than a little nervous when I saw you down two shots of espresso before heading out on our next adventure.

 

You offered me a shot, but I chose to indulge in a quick snack instead—a delicious chocolate croissant that had been leftover from breakfast probably the one that you hadn't eaten. I shrugged and told you that food gives you more energy anyway—that caffeine is only fake energy and eventually gives you a headache and causes you to crash.

 

You just laughed and shook your head at me.

 

"Ahh, but caffeine doesn't hang around on your middle." You patted my stomach playfully and made me feel dreadfully self-conscious even though I knew you were kidding.

 

"And it's not as messy."

 

"Huh?"

 

You stepped closer to me,  _too close_ , and met my eyes for what felt like the first time in weeks. Slowly, you ran your index finger underneath my lower lip, never once breaking your stare.

 

"You had a little chocolate there." You brought your finger to your lips and licked it clean. "Quite good those chocolate croissants," you said with a smirk, "even if they are a heart attack waiting to happen."

 

I just stood there blushing and gaping at you. You were so infuriating and confusing. First, I thought you were angry with me for invading your personal space at the bar since you hadn't spoken to me in days; now, you were standing in the kitchen practically licking chocolate off my lips and teasing me hopelessly. What the Fuck?

 

"Thanks—uh-let's get going."

**: : :**

 

 

After spending a couple of months under the same roof as you and observing your strange habits for far too long, I shouldn't have been surprised when your idea of fun was a far cry from normal.

 

I tried to act cool after the 'chocolate incident' and just follow your lead, but my mind had been wandering aimlessly on our long walk to whatever secret destination you had planned. I was surrounded by beautiful scenery: fields and valleys of green and orange, romantic cottages, and mesmerising water, which shimmered under the sunlight appearing more aquamarine than blue and flowing so freely, so smoothly—just pure. Still, even with all the grand imagery surrounding me, the only thing I could focus on was you.

 

You were a blond blur in front of me surrounded by a grey cloud of smoke. Apparently, you were taking a liking to those Muggle cigarettes, especially once you learnt they came in flavoured varieties such as mint or vanilla cloves.

 

I decided to play it safe and not take you up on your offer of a cigarette this time; we certainly didn't need a repeat of the last bloody cigarette episode. Instead, I attempted to tease you about your cigarette habit, figuring it was only fair since you always tease me about  _everything_. I claimed it was utterly Muggle and that your fabulous cigarettes were nothing more than glorified cancer sticks. For someone who was always lecturing me on  _my_  unhealthy eating habits, you didn't take care of yourself—constantly, drinking like a fish and smoking packs of cigarettes.

 

You just rolled your eyes and said in that Potter you are such a damned fool voice of yours, "Well, at least I'll die thin and beautiful. You'll just die a fat arse."

 

Thank Merlin, we reached our destination before we had time to get deeper into our argument.

 

"Here we are," you said, pointing to a handsome, stone bridge that was almost 200 ft in height.

 

For a minute, I got the ridiculous notion that you brought me here to push me off the bridge, but I just shrugged it off and followed.

 

You scurried onto the bridge, skipping across it with a huge smile smeared on your gorgeous face. Under the intense sunlight, it was even more obvious that your cheekbones had sunken in further and that your chin was more pointed than I had seen it in years, but it didn't matter; you were still stunningly beautiful and it almost hurt to look at you. When you reached the middle of the bridge, you stopped and carefully climbed onto the ledge of it.

 

"Malfoy!" I yelled. "What the fuck are you doing? Get down here before you kill yourself."

 

You turned around gracefully, and I felt my heart flutter, afraid that if you somehow faltered, even slightly, you would fall down to your death.

 

"Come on, Potter! Don't be an infant. The view's amazing up here!"

 

Leaning over, you held out a pale hand to me; my heart was hammering, knowing that this was not a good idea. I could hear Hermione's voice in the back of my mind telling me, "Harry Potter, don't you dare take his hand and get on that ledge! You are a grown man. You could kill yourself!" I knew that she was right, but I have never been rational when it comes to you. Without saying another word, I grasped onto your arm and tried to ignore the intense magnetism that was coursing through my body. As I stood next to you on the ledge, still grasping your hand much too tightly, I gasped at the breathtaking view.

 

You were right, as usual, and it was worth the risk just to be up there, taking in the celestial surroundings and sucking in the cool, crisp air.

 

"Malfoy this is fucking incredible!" I squeezed your hand firmly and closed my eyes to make sure I captured every detail of this moment, needing to imprint it in my memory for all eternity.

 

"I know," you shouted back at me and then released my hand. I groaned at the loss of contact, but when I opened my eyes, you had jumped off the ledge and were taking off your shirt and shoes.

 

"What the hell are you doing?"

 

You grabbed me by the arm, and I fell on top of you, off the ledge and onto the bridge, painfully squashing you. But you didn't seem to mind.

 

"Take off your shirt and shoes, Potter," you demanded. "We're going for a little swim."

 

Before I even responded, you were back on the ledge, your pale chest looking even creamier in the sunlight and your silver eyes, appearing blue just like the water. 

 

"You're mental," I said, as I tried not to lick my lips, watching you stand there in only a pair of tight black shorts.

 

As you were standing there all exposed, I could tell that my concerns had been well warranted. You hadn't been taking care of yourself or eating properly, so where just a few weeks ago there had been lightly defined stomach muscles, now I could make out most of your ribs. I really needed to get you to eat better, but now was not the time for such a discussion.

 

"What are you scared, Potter?" you taunted, turning around and giving me your most arrogant smirk that was so reminiscent of a 12-year-old Malfoy that it gave me chills.

 

"You wish," I sneered back, quickly reverting into my 12-year-old foolhardy self as well.

 

Quickly, I pulled off my shirt and shoes, not even bothering to be self-conscious about my slightly protruding stomach that was normally flat, but was still quite bloated from eating too many chocolate croissants and milky tea at breakfast. I joined you on the ledge, a fierce determination in my eyes. "Whenever you're ready, Malfoy."

 

I heard you whisper what sounded like a charm under your breath twice but decided to ignore it.

 

"On the count of three," you said and grabbed my hand.

 

 

 

**: :Fifteen: :**

**_"_** _Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to_ _."_ ~OW [15]

**: : :**

 

We jumped.

 

Holy Merlin, we jumped fucking 200 ft off a bridge!

 

I must have been insane to let you talk me into such a crazy stunt, but as I fell through the air, my stomach tickling, and my hair flying in all directions, there was nothing I could do about it. I had let my Gryffindor recklessness takeover yet again, but at least this time I had you firmly at my side. Even if we died, at least we would die together.

 

I started to panic, thinking that it was taking much too long to hit the water and realised that I didn't have my wand to save us from hitting the nearby rocks and meeting an untimely death. I looked over at you, hoping that you were smarter and had your wand, but unless you were hiding it in those devastatingly tight shorts, which didn't seem likely, it appeared that we were screwed. My stomach was revolting now, the croissants and various sweets sloshing around uncomfortably, and for once, I wished that I had listened to you and not eaten them. I thought I was going to be sick, but when I looked at you, hoping to see a similar petrified look on your face, I was shocked.

 

You were laughing—actually laughing. Your head was tilted back, wispy hair flying around your head adorning you like a golden crown; your full lips were wide open, and your eyes still a vivid blue were sparkling and amused. I relaxed and tried to take a deep breath, but before I could finish we hit the water.

 

It was cold, wet, refreshing, painful—a million different feelings washing over me all at once, but most of all I was relieved.

 

We were alive.

 

We had survived our impulsive suicide attempt, and hell it had been amazing, invigorating—like flying without a broomstick.

 

Bloody hell it was fantastic! And I wanted to do it again. As soon as possible.

**: : :**

 

"Malfoy, that was incredible," I called. "Really fucking incredible."

 

But as I looked around, you were nowhere to be found.

 

No. No. No.

 

I had taken my glasses off before the jump, so I could only make out the short distance right in front of me; everything else was a giant blur.

 

"Malfoy! Malfoy!" I called out desperately, almost forgetting to kick my feet in order to keep myself from submerging into the deep waters. My heart was beating rapidly, my chest tightening—making it almost impossible to breathe. If something had happened to you, if I somehow lost you because of this thoughtless stunt, I would never forgive myself.

 

"Draco, please!" I yelled, my voice shaking now and tears threatening to escape my eyes.

 

And then there you were.

 

You seemed completely fine as you splashed out of the clear waters; your long hair slicked back from your forehead and your pale cheeks flushed. You looked younger with your hair pushed back and more fragile. Quickly, I scanned you for any bruises or wounds; when I saw none, my mood darkened. I almost killed you right on the spot.

 

First, I jumped you, pulling you as close to me as possible and ignoring your violent protests that I was choking you. "You're okay. You're really, okay?"

 

"Of course, I am, Potter," you squeaked. "Now, stop suffocating me. You're going to drown me."

 

Reluctantly, I let go of you, finally able to breathe again, and then I eyed you cautiously.

 

"Come on," you said, pulling my arm. "It's too deep here, let's swim to shallower waters."

 

I followed more closely behind you than necessary, but I wasn't going to let you out of my sight again so soon. When we reached the shallow waters, barely four feet deep, I jumped you again. This time, however, it wasn't to hold you. I started thumping you, beating you with my fists and yelling.

 

"How dare you do that to me, Malfoy? It wasn't bloody funny. I thought you were dead!"

 

I was seething now, my cheeks flushing, and I knew that I probably had the 'crazy eyes' as Ron always called them; the burning green flames that my eyes seemed to turn into whenever I was particularly livid.

 

You grabbed my wrists and studied me intently. We were under the bridge now, hidden from the rest of the world, and for the first time, I saw regret in your eyes.

 

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice soft and earnest. "It was only joke. I didn't think you'd care that much."

 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I shouted back. "I've put a lot of effort into keeping you alive, Malfoy. What makes you think I want you dead so badly?"

 

You bit down on your bottom lip, your eyes a cloudy grey again, since we were no longer in the sunlight.

 

"I really am sorry. I thought you heard me cast the double Cushioning Charm back on the bridge to keep us safe. You...you.. _.really_  do care." Your voice was genuinely surprised.

 

"Of course, I care," I snapped. "I-I care _too bloody_ much."

 

I had no idea what you were talking about when you mentioned Cushioning Charms, all I knew was that you were looking at me with miserable, grey eyes on the verge of tears. You reminded me so much of that little boy I had seen Andromeda comfort, so much of the broken boy I had saved from Malfoy Manor and vigilantly watched over while unconscious; the only thing I wanted was to banish your pain. I couldn't stand to see you hurt any longer. And you were so fucking beautiful standing there, looking so pitiful with your bottom lip protruding that I finally lost it and gave into my desires.

 

I grabbed you, pinned you against one of the curved stone walls of the bridge, and kissed you—deeply and furiously. I put everything I had into that kiss—all my passion, my fury, the pent up sexual desire that I had been harbouring for months for you, maybe even years. It was the best fucking kiss of my life. Your lips tasted salty and smoky—you still smelt like lavender, espresso beans, and citrus. It was the oddest fucking combination I had ever encountered, but it was absolutely perfect and intoxicating.

 

When we finally broke apart, I was breathless and you just stared at me, your eyes wide and unblinking.

 

"Draco," I croaked out, my entire body shaking. "I-I'm sorry."

 

Before you even had a chance to respond, I turned on my heels and ran. I ran faster than I have ever run before—faster and longer than probably you could even run.

 

I couldn't' believe that I had done that, violated your trust that way; I couldn't believe that I had ruined everything between us. You would probably never talk to me again.

 

But worst of all, you didn't come after me.

**To be continued...**

* * *

A/N:  Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts.  More updates will follow soon. = )

 

[14] Quote by James Frey

[15] Quote by Oscar Wilde


	10. Parts 16-17

**: :Sixteen: :**

_"He, who had done more than any human being to draw me out of the caves of my secret, folded life, now threw me down into deeper recesses of fear and doubt. The fall was greater than I had ever known, because I had ventured so far into emotion and had abandoned myself to it."_

~AN [16]

**: : :**

I don't how long I remained outside that day. I ran and ran until I was deep into the heart of the forest and just sat underneath a tree, feeling ashamed and sorry for myself--not even caring that I was only wearing a soggy pair of gym shorts.

 

Things had finally gotten better. I had a real life now, free from the intrusive press, a real family, and you and I were developing a close friendship. Certainly, things weren't perfect. I have grown to accept that life never is, but they were as close to perfect as they had ever been for me.

 

In typical Harry Potter style, I fucked up.

 

Maybe you were right all those years ago. Perhaps I was just an idiot Gryffindor, who never thought things through and jumped headfirst into things without ever considering consequences. I wanted to think that I had outgrown that phase of my life—that I was an adult now.

 

Obviously not.

**: : :**

 

 

When I made it back home, it was late. _Really_  late.

 

It was Friday night after all, so I figured that you had decided to go out and pick up a couple of girls to rid yourself of the infamous Potter germs that you had inhaled. I was thankful that there weren't any lights on in your room, but as I tiptoed past the living room, trying to make it to my room without being seen, Andromeda spotted me. Damn.

 

"Hold it right there, mister. Come here and explain where you've been and why you aren't wearing a shirt?"

 

"Uh."

 

She started tapping her foot. "I'm waiting."

 

"Well, uh—I went for a swim and uh—lost my clothes."

 

"Harry," she warned, not believing a word of my transparent lie.

 

I sat down on the floor by her feet, not wanting to dirty her furniture and ran a hand through my knotted hair.

 

"Wait a minute." I frowned. "How come I have to answer all these questions? Draco is gone at all hours of the day and night and you never question him."

 

Andromeda scrunched her lips into a tight line. "Harry, dear, this is about  _you_ , not Draco."

 

"No, it's not. We're the same age. I want the same rules." I knew that I sounded like a snotty, ungrateful brat, but I was in a foul mood and didn't feel like dealing with anyone right then, not even Andie.

 

"Oh, Harry," she said, sighing, "You can't hide anything from me, love. It's obvious you're upset. Just please tell me what's wrong. I promise I won't judge you."

 

I bowed my head and started talking. "Fine, Andie." I pretended the dirt on my feet was interesting. "Well, what if you knew there was someone that you cared about, you know romantically, but you weren't allowed to be with them?"

 

Andie eyed me warily, but her eyes were kind. "Go on," she urged. "Who doesn't want you to be with them?"

 

"Society. Everyone!" I sighed and bit down on my lip. Apparently, I was taking up your nervous habits as well. "I don't know. What—what if it's  _wrong_ to love this person?"

 

Andie leaned over from her chair and put her hands on my shoulders. "Harry," she said, her voice serious, "it's not ever wrong to love someone. Love is a beautiful thing."

 

I bit my lip again and looked at her."But—you just wouldn't understand, Andie. This is different."

 

Andromeda shook her head at me, her long hair swaying. "Oh child, think about what you're saying." Her hands were still on my shoulders and she squeezed them. "Think about my life, whom I married. No one understands better than I do."

 

I bowed my head further and covered my face with my hands. I was such an idiot. Of course, Andie would understand; she had gone through a similar situation with her late husband, Ted.

 

"Right." My voice was barely a whisper. "I'm sorry how could I forget?"

 

"It's fine, child," she assured me. "Just explain the problem to me."

 

"I-I care about someone," I said, still avoiding Andie's gaze, "that others wouldn't be happy about. I'm not even sure the other person would be happy about it."

 

Andie took her hands off my shoulders and lifted up my chin as she always did when she wanted to tell me something serious. "Harry-" Her voice was soft, tender. "You are blessed with a loving family who only wants the best for you. We never want you to be unhappy." She paused and kissed me on the forehead. "Anyone you love, child, I  _will_  love too."

 

"I-I" My face was flushing hot again; I had to learn to conceal my embarrassment better. "But—what if it's uh...uh..."

 

I gulped and looked Andie straight in the eye. I knew what I wanted to say, but how could I tell this sweet, old-fashioned woman that I was in love with a bloke, and not just any bloke, her nephew?

 

"What if it's a man?" Andie asked, her face calm and eyes kind. I gulped again; how could she know? There was no way that she could know about you. Was it that obvious?

 

"I-I. NO!" My shoulders were shaking now and my bottom lip quivering.

 

"Harry," she said, her voice soft and compassionate, "it's okay, if it is. Love is beautiful, child, no matter whom you love."

 

"No," I said again, my voice firmer this time.

 

"The heart can't help whom it loves."

 

"Well, you're wrong," I cried, whinging as if I were no older than Teddy.

 

She looked at me, pain evident in her usually serene eyes and kissed me on the forehead again.

 

"That's fine, child. Just remember what I said. No matter whom you love, no matter what you do, I will  _always_ love you. You will always be my son."

 

Silent tears streamed down my face, and I wrapped my arms around this wonderful woman, holding her so tightly that I'm impressed she didn't complain. I didn't deserve her kindness and understanding. Most of all, I didn't deserve to be her son. I had always wanted a mother my entire life. It was my fondest dream, my longest wish, and although I've had various mother figures throughout my life, mainly Hermione and Mrs Weasley, it never felt right. They were wonderful women, just not my mother. But at that moment, engulfed in Andromeda's arms, it felt right; I felt whole. For the first time in my life—I had a mother—a mother who would love me unconditionally.

 

"Thanks Mum," I said with a weak smile. "Thank you for everything."

 

"It's nothing." She wiped the tears from my eyes. "Why don't you go put on some clothes now? I don't want you catching a cold."

 

"Yes, Mum."

 

"And Harry," she said as I was walking away, "you know, that idiot of a nephew of mine, he has this habit of just pretending that he likes to be alone. He's just like his mother that way."

 

"Okay," I said, not really understanding what Andie was trying to tell me.

 

"I know the two of you have been getting along. And although he might not say it, he values your friendship very much." She smiled. "He's wanted it all his life. And if you don't make the effort to show him that he's an idiot and you value it too, he'll keep pushing you away."

 

"Okay," I said again, still not understanding Andie's point. "I do care for his friendship. Very much."

 

"Well then, you should go meet him. This town hasn't changed much since I was a girl, and if I know my nephew, he's at that bar, Le Petite Éclair. Everyone goes there on Fridays."

 

I furrowed my forehead and looked at Andie. "Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't want to impose. We...erm...had a disagreement." Well, that was putting it lightly.

 

Andie shook her head at me again. "That's all the more reason to go, love. Just trust me on this. Draco's a good lad...whatever it is...he'll understand."

 

I nodded at Andie. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

**: : :**

I don't know why I did it.

 

Looking back now, it was one of the many poor decisions I made that summer.  Somehow, I had let Andie talk me into going to see you.

 

Quickly, I showered and put on that silk green shirt that you had loaned me the first time we went out and my nicest pair of jeans. I was annoyed when I noticed that the shirt felt a lot tighter than the first time I had worn it at the beginning of the summer. Perhaps it was just my imagination. Either way, I looked as nice as possible, handsome even. Before leaving, I had a makeshift dinner of various sweets and a couple of shots of firewhisky. For some reason, French pastries always seemed to comfort me and the firewhisky would give me courage. I didn't know what I was going to say when I saw you, but I hoped that the words would come to me. All I knew was that I was going to plead insanity and beg you to forgive me. Even if Andie's words had been kind, she had no idea that I was in love with you. And you were hopelessly straight.

 

Christ, you went home with a different  _tart_ every night; there was no way that  _you_  could ever be interested in me. Still, having you in my life as a close friend, as a member of my family, was better than not having you at all.

 

When I got to the bar, I was confident. It appeared that those shots of firewhisky had done the trick. If only I had some Felix Felicis on hand. I asked the hostess where you were and she motioned to your usual table. I strutted over there with my head held high, ready to grovel at your feet if necessary, but my jaw dropped when I got closer. I hid behind a nearby table and once again started to spy on you.

 

I had assumed that you would be sitting there surrounded by beautiful girls, but instead you were sitting there chatting animatedly with two rather fit blokes. They were dressed in stylish clothes resembling yours and had that snobbish upper class look about them; they were obviously French and not even all that good looking on closer inspection. Not compared to you.

 

I had no idea what you were saying because it was in French, but the one dark haired bloke was leaning in way too close to you and put his large hand on top of yours. I didn't like it one bit, and I liked it even less when I saw you flash your most dazzling smile at him. He grabbed you by the arm and started dragging you across the bar. After there was an adequate distance between us, I followed.

 

He had dragged you outside to the adjacent alley and was trying to be suave and ask you for a cigarette. What a lame fucking pick up line, that  _smarmy git_. Luckily, he was speaking English now. Apparently, it was only the other bloke who didn't speak any English. You smiled at him again and said that you had left your cigarettes back inside—that you must be a bit pissed. You offered to go get them, but instead he grabbed you by the arm and pushed you against the wall.

 

"I have a better idea," he croaked, and then he smashed his lips against yours, his filthy mouth devouring yours.

 

Normally, I would have felt immense rage and jealousy; my insatiable chest monster would attempt to claw its way out.

 

But I didn't.

 

Instead, I felt an intense pain that stabbed me deep in the chest and left me breathless. It was as if I had been betrayed in the worst possible way.

 

The two of you broke your passionate kiss, and then the bloke dropped to his knees and started unbuttoning your trousers. I knew what was coming next. As much as I wanted to see your cock, as many times as I had fantasised about how thick and pink it must be, the last thing I wanted was to see it like this. My stomach threatened to empty itself, the beignets and éclairs I ate for my belated dinner ramming their way up my throat. I needed to get out of there. If I stayed any longer, I was going to be sick.

 

I Apparated out of the alley and never looked back.

 

 

**: :Seventeen: :**

_"Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching."_ ~ GGM [18]

**: : :**

The next couple of days, I avoided you hopelessly. I lied to Andromeda and told her that I was spending a couple of days with Ron and Hermione. In reality, all I did was lay around in a nearby hotel room, drinking myself into a heavy stupor and gorging myself on room service.

 

I had never been into drinking hard alcohol, but those couple of days, nothing else seemed to cut my pain. I finally understood why people needed and drank hard liquor. Sometimes, it was the only way to escape. Even with all the adversities I had faced in life, I never had the urge to drown my sorrows as I did now. Okay, maybe I would have wanted to drown my sorrows when I was fifteen and Sirius died, but since I was only fifteen then, it wasn't an option.

 

It wasn't the fact that you rejected me that had me so depressed. No, I could have dealt with you not returning my affections. What really bothered me, was that you had lied.

 

I thought that I had been hopelessly in love with a straight bloke—that the only reason I couldn't have you was because you fancied women instead of men—and perhaps one day you would even tell me, "Potter, if I were ever going to shag a bloke, it would be you." It was the perfect lie I had been filling my head all day with in that forest.

 

I had never imaged this. What did it mean?

 

Obviously, you weren't straight—that ugly French twat had his mouth firmly around your cock. You were a big, fat queer just like me. But what about all the girls? Had that just been an act for my benefit? Did you really think that I would be so judgemental and reject your friendship if I knew you liked cock?

 

No, that probably wasn't it. Was it me then? Was I more obvious in my affections towards you than I thought? Did you parade girls around me because you were _that_ repulsed by the idea that I might be attracted to you?

 

That  _had_ to be it.

 

I could deal with the fact that you weren't attracted to me. Hell, I really didn't blame you. You looked like a model, and I'm well—I'm just Harry, somewhat handsome on a good day, but never stunning like you. Still, you lied to me and were so disgusted by me that you shied away from my advances, but accepted blowjobs from ugly French cocksuckers.

 

Okay, the French bloke wasn't really that ugly. In fact, most people would say he was traditionally handsome; he was tall, well dressed, had great hair, and broad shoulders. He was probably hiding a fit body behind those tight designer clothes, perhaps even a six-pack under that tight shirt, and he undeniably had a great arse. I wasn't any of those things. I certainly wasn't tall or well dressed. My hair was shit, as you've told me hundreds of times, and although I do have broad shoulders and a reasonably fit body, I didn't have a six-pack. Perhaps a four-pack back when I was in Auror training, but definitely not now when I had spent the entire summer being a lazy bum and pigging out on French pastries. No, it made perfect sense why you went for the French bloke instead of me. He was much more your type. If only, you didn't lie to me about it.

 

How could I confront you now?

**: : :**

 

 

Hiding from you, turned out to be harder than I thought. While my lie had worked on Andie, you had seen right through it.

 

On my fourth day of self-imposed exile, you found me. It was my own fault since I hadn't been careful and cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself, but it was late at night—and as usual, I had been drinking. I wasn't completely pissed, but my head was fuzzy and I wasn't in any pain.

 

You saw me sprawled out on the floor, a half-empty bottle of firewhisky by my head and a small mountain of empty wrappers piled by my feet. I knew that I looked pathetic, and I'm still surprised that you even sat down next to me.

 

When you sat down next to me, I lay still for several seconds and didn't say anything, my eyes firmly fixed on the night sky.

 

"Potter?"

 

"Oh, it's you," I responded, not even bothering to look at you.

 

"How did you even find me?"

 

"I thought you might be here," you said, voice soft, careful. "Well, actually it was Teddy's idea. He told me you like stars."

 

"The little traitor. You should be proud. It looks like you got a future Slytherin on your hands."

 

You sighed and lay down next to me, making sure to first remove your leather jacket and fold it neatly. You placed it in a large bag that you had been carrying and then moved closer. I was surprised that you had been willing to sacrifice getting grass stains on your precious designer clothes. You're such a fucking git.

 

"What do you mean...you?" You scrunched your forehead. "Don't you mean...we? He's  _your_ godson."

 

"I know. But he has you to take care of him now. I'm going back to England."

 

"Potter," you protested, your voice whiny, "what are you talking about? You're supposed to stay for the rest of the summer. There are still three weeks left."

 

I kept my eyes averted to the sky, knowing that I would break down if I gazed into those gorgeous silver eyes of yours.

 

"I changed my mind. Deal's off."

 

"But what about Andromeda?" Your voice was higher pitched now, higher than I had ever heard it. "She'll be devastated. And little Teddy too."

 

I shrugged but still didn't meet your eyes, even though I could feel your intense gaze on me.

 

"She'll understand. And  _Teddybear_ has you. He won't even notice I'm gone."

 

You blew your fringe out of your face, much more dramatically than necessary, and put your hand on my arm. "Harry, please. Don't be like this. If this is about the other day?"

 

Finally, I sat up and met your concerned gaze. I glared at you and said, "The name's Potter, Malfoy."

 

"Fine, Potter, if you want. But what is it?"

My blood was seething again; you were pushing me over the edge as usual. Why couldn't you just leave me alone? You had already done enough, but in typical Malfoy fashion, you had to show up and twist the knife in deeper.

 

"Not everything is about you, Malfoy. Just sod off already!"

 

"Harry," you cried, your voice frantic now, "no, I'm not going to leave. Let's talk about this rationally. I thought we were friends."

 

"I told you the name's Potter and we're not friends. We were never friends."

 

"I-I"

 

"No, you listen. Friends don't lie to each other."

 

You ran a hand through your hair and opened your eyes wide. "I don't understand. When did I lie to you?"

 

"Are you fucking kidding me, Malfoy?" I sneered. "Are really going to still play this game? When were you planning on telling me you were  _queer_ ,  _a cocksucker, a fucking fairy_?"

 

You opened your eyes even wider and furrowed your forehead. "Potter, what are you talking about? I'm not gay. How much have you had to drink tonight?"

 

"I'm perfectly sober! How can you sit there and continue lying to my face? I fucking saw you, okay. In the alley with that  _frog_...he had your cock in his mouth."

 

You sighed again; you were doing that a lot tonight and rubbed your face with your hands. "Bollocks. You weren't supposed to see that."

 

"Why? If you're trying to stay in the closet, you're doing a really shitty job. Anybody could have seen you."

 

"It's not that, Potter. It's not a secret. Jacques and I have been trading favours for years now."

 

I bit my bottom lip and felt my magic crackling. I needed to take a deep breath and relax. If not, even without my wand, I was going to hex your bollocks off.

 

"Fantastic. So everyone knows...but me, huh? What was it some type of joke to you? Flaunting those girls in front of me, so poor, lovesick Potter doesn't make googly eyes at you? You're pathetic, Malfoy."

 

"That's not it. Please listen to me." Your voice was cracking.

 

"No, you listen, Malfoy. I'm not attracted to you. I'm not madly in love with you or any other ridiculous idea you might have. That kiss was a mistake, a lapse in judgement, and quite terrible if you ask me. There was no reason for your whole farce."

 

"Harry,  _please_. It wasn't a farce. Please hear me out." Your voice was desperate now, and your eyes, which I had tried so hard to avoid were shining with unshed tears. Those fucking eyes of yours were always my breaking point.

 

"You have two minutes," I said, as I reached for the bottle of firewhisky, "and don't call me, Harry."

 

You took a deep breath. "Potter, it wasn't an act with the girls. I don't know how to explain this. You were raised in the Muggle world and wouldn't understand."

 

"You better try...time's ticking away."

 

"Fine," you squeaked in a soft voice that I had never heard you use before. "But just let me speak with no interruptions, okay? Then you can ask any questions you want."

 

"I'm all ears, Malfoy. Do your worst."

 

"Okay," you said, while sucking on your bottom lip. "I'm not gay."

 

I rolled my eyes at you, but refrained from commenting.

 

"But I'm not straight either."

 

"So you're confused, huh?"

 

"No," you protested. "Come on, Potter. You said you wouldn't interrupt."

 

I took another swig of the firewhisky and gestured for you to continue.

 

"I don't label myself one way or the other because I don't limit myself that way. I'm not attracted to people's gender. There are beautiful people, both men and women. I'm sure you can agree with me there."

 

Reluctantly, I nodded.

 

"Exactly. So it's not just a pretty face that attracts me, Potter. I'm attracted to someone's inner core, their inner being, their magic."

 

I spat out the firewhisky that was sloshing around my mouth and glared at you darkly.

 

"What kind of bullshit are you trying to pull, Malfoy?" I shouted. "You can't feel magic; you can't even see it. There's no way you can be attracted to it." I looked you straight in the eyes. "You're a liar."

 

"No," you said, only flinching slightly at my harsh glare. "You  _can_ feel magic—even see it—if it's powerful enough. You know what I'm talking about; you've seen it yourself...felt it."

 

"No, I haven't," I insisted, but the more that I thought about it, the more your theory made sense. It wasn't just your good looks and witty personality that attracted me—it was your magic. I had felt your magic before, even seen it without realising what it was. Your magic had been pulling me towards you, enrapturing me, enchanting me. Yes, I knew exactly what you meant. But I was still angry.

 

"Yes, you have. Think, Potter. You've felt it. I know you have."

 

"Why are you so sure?" I demanded. "How do you know?"

 

You looked closely at me and placed a hand on my arm, giving it a slight squeeze. "Because Potter...I've felt it too. The magnetism is so strong between us that you can feel it, especially when we touch. Don't you feel that?"

 

Of course, I felt it. I always felt it when you were near, and now with your hand on my arm, a deep tingling was spreading through my veins. And when I looked at you, I saw flecks of green and gold in your eyes. Oh yes, your magic was so obviously there. It was beautiful, intoxicating and too much of a tease.

 

Quickly, I snapped my arm from your grasp and glared at you again.

 

"I don't feel anything, Malfoy. Please refrain from touching me."

 

You pulled back from me as if you were a child who had been scalded by a hot stove. 

 

"I'm sorry." Your voice was so earnest and faint, and your eyes no longer met my gaze. "Look, Potter. That's the truth. I wasn't trying to hide anything about myself. I spent sixteen years of my life living in a little box that my father had planned out for me. I couldn't do anything or think anything that he didn't approve of." You looked up at me and smiled shyly. "Then you saved me and killed that bastard who ruined my life and destroyed my father. It was too late for him. But...I had been given a second chance—a chance to live life right, so I wasn't going to fuck it up." You paused. "I told myself that I would never limit myself with labels again. There are so many things to try in the world. And I want to try them all!"

 

I took another long swig from the firewhisky bottle and then lay back down.

 

"Fuck, Malfoy." I covered my eyes with my hands. "When did you get so fucking deep? I'm too pissed right now to be having this conversation."

 

"Erm—"

 

"It appears you do have a soul after all."

 

You tightened your lips into a thin line and looked at me, your eyes penetrating but pained at the same time. "So are we okay? I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I didn't know you were gay and with your Muggle upbringing I thought you would think poorly of me."

 

You really were persistent when you wanted something. It was incredibly annoying, but at the same time, endearing. I felt my anger fade and my magic settle. I turned to you and offered you the best smile I could muster, although it was probably more of a forced smirk.

 

"Christ, Malfoy. You really don't give up."

 

"Not when I want something."

 

"Then fine. We're okay. Just leave me alone though. I need some time to process all of this."

 

You didn't look particularly happy with my request, but agreed anyway, offering me a basket of food you had brought along in your bag. "I figured you hadn't been eating well," you said, pushing the basket of food closer to me. "You've probably only eaten junk without Andromeda around to make sure you eat some vegetables."

 

"Thanks," I said, feeling incredibly guilty that I had lashed out on you so horribly when you had been bringing me a basket of food.

 

"I hope you'll come back home soon. It's pretty boring without you."

 

"Well, you always seemed to find a way to keep yourself occupied before," I snapped. "Maybe you should owl Jacques."

 

"Right." Your pale cheeks darkened. "Well, have a good night."

 

You grabbed your bag and started walking away from me. "And Potter," you said slowly, "just for the record, that kiss didn't seem terrible to me. I thought it meant something.  _Stupid me_."

 

Before I could respond, you were gone.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**[16] Quote by Anaïs Nin**

**[17] Quote by Gabriel Garcia Marquez**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and being patient with me. I apologise this chapter took longer to post. I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> ~Icicle


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